


Finding Christmas

by KingdomLights



Category: Figure Skating RPF, Olympics RPF
Genre: 100 percent cheesy christmas romcom, 12 days of punsmas, AU times ahead, Christmas Fluff, F/M, a touch of frenemies to lovers, hallmark goodness now with a slice of mature rating, hand-holding guaranteed, how to lose a skater in 12 days
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-13
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-09-17 17:55:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 53,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16979187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KingdomLights/pseuds/KingdomLights
Summary: When an on-air mishap has the entire country believing Tessa Virtue hates Christmas, the morning television host is given an ultimatum - either find her Christmas spirit or find another job. Shipped back to her hometown of Mistleton - a place renowned for its Christmas cheer - with a camera crew in tow, Tessa has her work cut out for her if she's going to undo the damage she's caused to her reputation.Armed with rosy cheeks and a killer smile, the former Olympic champion thinks this is one town she can win over (even if she has to fake it!). Okay, so there's the slight problem of her having left suddenly four years earlier, and the somewhat larger problem of her ex-skating partner being around to push every single one of her buttons, but she's got this. She can handle him - even if she does have to hit him over the head with a bag of candy canes.But when the past bubbles up and threatens to overwhelm her, Tessa is forced to confront the reason she now hates the season, and while she'd do just about anything to get rid of Scott Moir so she can get on with the job of pretending it's not a terrible holiday, she soon discovers he just might be the one to help her find Christmas after all.





	1. The First Oh-Hell

**Author's Note:**

> This story's premise is loosely inspired by the film "Every Christmas Has a Story".  
> I wanted to write a little bit of ficmas but I'm no good at canon, and so I've woven elements of Tessa and Scott's history into this AU, with a few spins on their childhood and relationship running up to Vancouver and Sochi to make it (hopefully!) a little unique.  
> I hope you enjoy it and Merry Ficmas!  
> (PS: If Christmas carol puns offend you, then this may not be the fic for you.)

* * *

Tessa Virtue hates Christmas.

 

Okay, so she doesn’t _hate_ it. It’s just… a lot to handle when what _should_ be a two-day holiday is – in reality – two months of tinsel-fueled madness, homes lit up so brightly you can see them from space, Santas on every corner ho-ho-hoing about discounted products, and carols belting out in every store.  The deep-scented smell of spruce, pine, and fir is everywhere and for Tessa – it’s just… a lot.

She hasn’t always felt this way. As a kid, it was one of her favourite times of the year: her family all together, presents piled high around the six-foot tree, her brothers taking her and Jordan on the toboggan across town with the rest of the neighbourhood kids, or her parents sharing a kiss beneath the mistletoe. Even as a young teen, when she moved away to train and was competing more, Christmas was one of the few times in the year that she knew they’d all be together. Even though it sometimes worried her to think about the rest of the season ahead, her mom had always found a way to take her mind off it, and, for a brief moment in time, Tessa wasn’t a figure skater, she was just a girl looking forward to the holidays - and to sneaking a little eggnog when nobody was looking.

But those days are long gone and all that’s left of Christmas is a bitter memory she would rather forget.

 _It’s not a big deal_ , she usually tells herself every November when the stores start stocking baubles and twinkly lights. She usually keeps herself busy, working right the way up to Christmas Eve, then stopping over at her Mom’s for a family dinner with Jordan, before hopping on a flight to somewhere warm and sunny.

It suits her just fine.

The plane is empty and there’s the added bonus of working on a tan in December. This year, she’s going to a spa in Costa Rica and – quite frankly – she can’t wait.

 _Just a few more weeks_ , she thinks, as she lets herself into her apartment and slips out of her runners. _A few more weeks and I’ll be away from all this_.

* * *

 

 _“… and if you’re downtown today, be sure to stop by Indigo at Eaton Centre. The holiday gift shop is now open and there’s plenty of fun for all the family in the new Christmas grotto. Get there early for_ your _chance to meet Santa and his little helpers. But right now, here’s another Christmas classic…”_

“ _No_ thank you,” Tessa says, reaching out and pressing her fist down on the alarm clock.

She really should start using her phone like the rest of the world does, but she’s a little old-fashioned this way, and enjoys the simplicity of tucking her phone away at night.

To be fair, she’d had to.

Her inability to sit still for long meant she never could resist the pull of seeing her phone light up as she lay there in the dark. So now, unless she’s travelling, it goes away at night and Tessa wakes up to the sound of local radio.

She stretches out beneath the comforter, a dark wave of hair sprawling across the pillow as she moves, before throwing back the covers and padding towards the bathroom in her slipper socks.  It’s still dark out and she’s never been much of a morning person, but she loves her job and she’s pretty damn good at it.

A decade ago, she could never imagine being this comfortable in front of a camera. Even when she was competing at the very top of her sport, she’d found the presence of a myriad lenses daunting and invasive. Now, it was second nature to wake up and spend her morning talking to five and a half million viewers across the country.

Tessa runs the shower and stares, bleary-eyed, at the mirror while she waits for the water to heat up.

“Good morning, Toronto,” she says, wiping away the last vestiges of sleep. “It’s a _brand_ new day and we’re _going_ to make it a good one.”

* * *

 

“Good morning Philip,” Tessa says, stopping by the front desk to untangle the scarf around her neck.

“Good morning, Miss Virtue,” Philip replies, giving her a warm smile.

“Philip,” Tessa says, tilting her head toward her shoulder and giving the young desk assistant a look. “We’ve had this conversation a thousand times, it’s Tess.”

Philip shrugs, unoffended.

“Rules are rules, Miss Virtue.”

Tessa grins widely and rolls her eyes - their CEO was a real stickler for presentation. Philip grins back at her.

“So, are you all ready for Christmas?”

“Nope,” Tessa replies.

“Are you _getting_ ready for Christmas?”

“No,” Tessa says, lightly.

“Are you _planning_ on getting ready for Christmas?” Philip asks, with a furrow to his brow.

“If you say _Christmas_ one more time, I’m going to ask Santa to put a lump of _coal_ in your stocking.”

Philip laughs.

“Well, I wouldn’t want _that_!”

Tessa smiles and waves her goodbyes before meeting her producer, Maddy, in the hallway.

“So, we’ve had a _slight_ change in the scheduling,” she says, without preamble.

“Oh?” Tessa says, shrugging out of her coat and running her fingers through the back of her hair.

“Yes, initial line-up is the same,” Maddy tells her. “But Catherine seemed big on some ornament guy from Victoria, a – Maxwell Granovsky – so you’ll be doing your final segment with him.”

“Are you _kidding_?” Tessa says.

“Afraid not,” Maddy replies. “Apparently he has the largest Christmas ornament collection in the country… or the world… I don’t know, here’s the briefing.”

She hands a piece of paper to Tessa, who scans it quickly.

“ _Maddy_ ,” she says, searching for the joke.

“It’s legit, I swear,” her producer says. “Because when _I_ saw it, the first thing I did was call Clara to clarify.”

“And, Clara… _clarified_?” Tessa says, with a look of amusement on her face.

“ _No_ ,” Maddy replies. “Clara hung up the phone on me. I should have known better.”

“I guess if you got this from her, you really got it from Catherine so… yeah… oh God!” Tessa says, coming to a stop, still looking at the sheet in her hand.

“What?” Maddy says.

“He’s got a _stuffed..._ partridge... collection,” she says with horror.

“I know! I know!” Maddy replies. “Just do you, and side-step that landmine.

“He built his own _life_ - _size_ pear tree out of recycled products!”

“Mm hm,” Maddy says.

“For his _recycled_ birds,” Tessa says.

Maddy barks out a laugh.

“Just… get through it Virtue,” Maddy says. “Sometimes that’s the job.”

Tessa tries to keep her eyes from rolling into the back of her head.

“I’m so glad I got my journalism degree,” she mumbles, heading down towards the studio.

Five minutes later, Tessa slides into hair and make-up, hoping that whatever magic Tanya was about to cook up today, that it was enough to make her feel a little bit festive - or at least enough to make her feel like she could fake it.

“So, any plans for the holidays?” Tanya asks, as she sweeps the eyeliner pencil beneath Tessa’s lower lids.

Tessa sighs inwardly. She loves Tanya, really, the woman has worked miracles on days when Tessa’s skin had had an overnight meltdown, but she doesn’t want to talk about this. How do you explain to someone, even somebody you see every day, that you just don’t like Christmas? Ultimately, people just don’t understand it and they try to hand you a list of reasons why you should, and  _then_ it gets _really_ awkward. So, she tries not to talk about it at all and in that way, avoids having to lie to anyone.

“Um, yeah,” she replies, grateful that she doesn’t have to make direct eye contact right now. “I’m going on vacation for two weeks.”

“Ooh, where to?” Tanya asks, now dutifully attacking Tessa’s lashes with mascara.

“Uh – Costa Rica actually,” Tessa replies, hesitantly. “I… um… wanted to break up the long Winter and go somewhere warm.”

“God, that sounds amazing,” Tanya continues, oblivious to Tessa’s discomfort. “I’d kill to get out of here for a bit and get some sun, I swear every year my skin just gets more and more dry.  Hey, do you think you could hook a girl up with a Nivea care package?”

Tessa laughs gently.

“Consider it done,” she replies.

“You are an _angel_ ,” Tanya tells her, grabbing the shade of nude pink _Charlotte Tilbury_ that Tessa loves.

“It’s the least I can do for the woman who makes me look so good every day.”

“Psh, girl, you look good every day,” Tanya replies.

Tessa isn’t so sure about that but she’s comfortable enough in her skin to accept the compliment for what it is. Her former career acted as a springboard into the current, and she’s very grateful for the opportunities and partnerships she’s been able to create over the years. She’s still not entirely certain how her pale skin and array of freckles equated into a face that was (for want of a better word) marketable – and she has to admit it’s odd to see herself in store-front windows or on billboards – but Tessa is more than happy with the career she’s carved for herself following her exit from Figure Skating. And she thinks it can only get better.

Provided she survives the holiday season, of course.

“So, I hear you’re interviewing those ice dancers today,” Tanya, says, finishing off Tessa’s lips and standing back to examine the effect.

Tessa’s eyes light up at the distraction.

“Yes, Kaitlyn and Andrew,” Tessa replies, with a smile. “They’ve had a great year.”

“Please don’t kill me,” Tanya says, “but I know absolutely _nothing_ about figure skating. Mary’s over doing their make-up right now and until this morning, I had no idea that Pairs and Ice Dancing were two different things. Sorry.”

Tessa laughs loudly.

“Don’t worry,” she says. “I wasn’t exactly saving lives.”

“I’m more of a theatre girl,” Tanya muses. “Like, I completely forgot there was an Olympics this year. Did they win?”

“Placed second,” Tessa replies. “They were beaten by the French team, over some… interestingly subjective scores.”

“Sounds a little unfair,” Tanya says.

Tessa shrugs.

“That’s the sport,” she replies. “That was Sochi for us.”

“So, you know them, right?” Tanya asks.

“Kaitlyn and Andrew? Yeah, knew them as kids, although I’ve only seen them a handful of times over the last couple of years. Training for the Olympics practically eliminates any chance of you having free time.”

“It’s nice that you get a little reunion today then.”

“Oh yeah, I’m looking forward to it.”

Tanya picks up an applicator and starts brushing the rouge onto Tessa’s cheeks.

“So, you were… an ice dancer too, right? Or a pair?” Tanya asks. “Sorry.”

Tessa smiles at the apology.

“Ice dancer, yes, although it feels like a hundred years ago now.”

“Y’know I did Google you once and I have to say, your partner was a cutie.”

Tessa tries not to wince and prays Tanya doesn’t dig any further. The only thing that would be _worse_ than talking about the holidays, would be talking about him.

“Had a _great_ butt,” Tanya continues, stating it as fact. “What was his name again?”

Tessa bobs her head noncommittally and glances at the clock, hoping Jess would be here in a second to do her hair and save her from commenting on her former skating partner’s _derrière._

“Scott,” Tessa replies, softly, frowning at the strange tug in her belly.

“That’s right,” Tanya says. “Definite cutie. You still see him?”

Tessa sits up a little straighter and puts on, what she hopes, is her best media face.

“Uh, no,” she replies, swivelling in her chair and pretending to check her phone. “But it’s not uncommon for partnerships to end and for people to move on with their lives. It’s not a big deal.”

Tessa’s glad that Tanya’s not looking directly at her right now because, if she’s honest with herself, it was a more of a deal than she’d ever care to admit.

* * *

  
Maddy sits in the booth, keeping one eye on the monitor and the other on the set. Around her, a half a dozen other tech crew sit with headsets over their ears.

She watches Tessa smile warmly at Maxwell Granofsky, thoroughly charming the man and and his chest full of intricate decorations, before turning in her chair to face the camera once more.

“Camera one, close in on Tess,” she says, watching the monitor tighten up in response.

“… and I think we’ve _all_ learned something today on how we can capture the magic of Christmas wherever we may go,” Tessa says. “Thank you for joining us today and to all you viewers at home, from all of us here at _The Morning Show_ , we wish you a _very_ happy holiday season. And _remember_ , it’s a brand new day, so go out and make it a _good_ one.”

“Aaannnddd, cut,” Maddy says. “Good show everybody.”

She gets out of her seat, dumps her headset, and heads into the hallway with a few of the crew, smiling at the intern hurrying towards her with a coffee. She sips it gratefully, leaning her head against the wall and waiting for that first blissful jolt of caffeine to hit her brain.

“… oh _no_ , I couldn’t, really,” she hears Tessa say.

“Oh, you’ll _love_ it,” Granovsky says. “It’s a hand-crafted piece, I got it from a little town in Norway and it’s the perfect addition to your holiday decoration.”

“I don’t even have a tree…” Tessa replies.

_  
Wait…_

  
Maddy’s a wall and a sound booth over, she shouldn’t be able to hear anything from the set right now.  


_Oh shit!_  


“Guys!” Maddy calls, to the vacating crew. “Audio’s live!”

“What?” comes the confused response, before they too realise, that they can hear Tessa talking.

“You... _don’t_ have a _tree_?” Maxwell Granovsky says, and Maddy can hear the scandalised undercurrent in his tone. “But it’s the _holidays_!”

“I know,” Tessa replies. “But y’know… I really don’t…”

Maddy races back into the booth.

She can see Tessa through the glass standing near the edge of the stage, trying to detach her microphone. Granovsky is just behind her, looking a little taken aback that she won’t accept the angel he’s holding in his hand.

“Where’s it coming from guys?” she hisses urgently, silently cursing everybody for not checking their station before they left.

“Come on, just take it!” Granovsky insists, trying once more to hand it over.

“I really can’t,” Tessa replies, quietly, still tugging at the mic on her collar which now appears to be stuck. “It wouldn’t be right, I don’t really celebrate…

“I insist!” Granovsky says. “It will bring you _great_ -”

“I just… don’t... like -”

“- joy.”

“ _Christmas_.”

“You don’t… _like_ … _Christmas_?” he says, loud and incredulous.

 _Oh boy_ , Maddy thinks, her eyes flicking up to the red light above her. They were _live on air_.

“ _Somebody_ find that switch!” she says.

“No,” Tessa is saying. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean it like that I just, don’t really see the point of all this holiday madness.”

Granovsky purses his lips as if deciding something.

“Okay,” he says, thrusting the angel back in her face. “Then you _definitely_ need this in your life. Take it. It embodies the true spirit of Christmas.”

“I appreciate the sentiment,” she says, turning away from him once again. “But I’m not really sure that exists.”

“It does, I have seen it for myself!” Granovsky replies. “If you’ll just let me -”

“I’m sorry,” Tessa says, tightening her lips together as she tugs at her shirt. “I just…

_Tug._

“… hate…”

_Tug._

“…Christmas.”

_Tug._

Maddy watches in horror as the guy heads toward Tessa, delicate ornament aloft, just as she finally frees the microphone from her collar and swings back ‘round to face him.

Tessa’s arm flies out in momentum, knocking him right off his feet and sending him crashing into the on-set Christmas tree, and he lies there, sprawled among the faux-presents, stunned into silence, holding what remains of the shattered angel.

Tessa grabs her cheeks,  heat creeping into her skin and she turns toward the booth just in time to see the ‘on air’ light go out.

“Please tell me we were not on the air?” she says, her eyes imploring Maddy’s.

The camera crew are staring back at her, speechless, and Maddy can feel Tessa’s panic reaching out and radiating toward her.

Her eyes are wide and it’s clear she’s asking if anyone else in the studio had heard all that. Maddy winces and Tessa glances from the booth to the camera, her next question plain as day.

 _Oh yeah_ , everybody in the studio heard Tessa Virtue, darling of morning television say that she hates Christmas.  


But the more important question was, did the _rest_ of the country hear it too?


	2. Silent Bite

_“Well, viewers, if you’re just tuning in to tonight’s programme, we have a doozy of a headliner for_ you _. CBC’s, Tessa Virtue,_ hates _Christmas. The Morning Show host was caught live on camera arguing with one of the world’s finest ornament collectors about whether the spirit of Christmas actually exists.”_

Tessa sighs, staring at the television from her sofa. She watches the footage of her knocking Maxwell Granovsky off his feet.

It looks even worse in slow motion.

_“I mean, I’m not sure that was her best move.”_

_“I think that depends on your point of view, I mean there’s almost an elegance to it. I think she had great form.”_

_“Sure, but… y’know… you_ better _watch out!”_

 _“And you certainly_ will _cry.”_

Her phone lights up next to her and she hits the green button.

“It was an accident!” she says.

 _“Turn off the TV,”_ her mother replies.

_“For those of you who remember, before getting into television, Tessa had long been considered to be one of Canada’s sweethearts, winning Ice Dance gold at the Vancouver Olympics in 2010 with former skating partner, Scott Moir.”_

“Oh, God,” Tessa groans, watching the replay of the Kiss and Cry, eight years earlier, when their Free Dance score was announced.

_“Four years later they took silver in Sochi and retired shortly after.”_

“And this is relevant _how_?” Tessa says.

_“Weren’t they also in a romantic relationship at the time?”_

“No!” Tessa says.

_“I don’t know but there were definitely rumours.”_

“We were not an _anything_!” she says, burying her face in a cushion, before throwing it directly at the television, to escape the madness.

 _“Tess,”_ her mother says, from the other end of the line.

“And you call yourselves _journalists_?” Tessa cries, waving wildly at the duo who seem to be taking great pleasure in dissecting her life.

_“Yes, they were Canada’s darlings.”_

“Tessa, turn it off,” her mother says, firmly.

_“Well she’s not so darling anymore, wouldn’t you say?”_

“Oh my _God_ ,” Tessa says, rolling her eyes in horror.

_“Tessa!”_

“Alright!”

Tessa makes a face as she slams her finger down on the remote.

“It’s off.”

She can hear her mother’s gentle breathing as she waits for Tessa to calm down.

Tessa, for her part, continues to groan into her lap.

“So,” her mother says, eventually. “What happened?”

“What _happened_?” Tessa says. “We ended our partnership and I moved on with my life, he moved on with his, and what does it even _matter_ who I was _dating_ at the time? What does _that_ have to do with anything?”

Kate Virtue coughs and Tessa falls silent.

 _“I_ meant _… what happened_ today _, Tess?”_

“Oh.”

_“That’s not like you.”_

“I know! I know!” Tessa sighs. “I just… the guy kept thrusting that damn angel into my face and I’d just spent twenty minutes listening to him talk about curating your decorations based on the kind of _tree_ you’re going to buy to connect with its… _soul_ – and he just wouldn’t take no for an answer and… I don’t know… it’s just…”

_“The holidays?”_

“The holidays.”

Tessa nods, feeling somewhat numb about it all, and she’s mortified that every news network in town seems to have picked up the story.

“Mom, I’m so embarrassed,” she says. “What do I do?”

“Well, I guess the only thing you _can_ do is go out there on Monday and apologise.”

Tessa winces, her hand shooting out to steady the bounce in her right knee.

“I know,” she says, quietly. “I just… I don’t know if I can fix this.”

“Sweetheart, you are a beautiful soul with an incredible heart -”

“Someone  _literally_   drew a picture of me dressed as Scrooge!"

“Well, baby girl, then you are going to have to get out there and show everyone that that is not _you_.  Prove them wrong.”

“You want me to _lie_?”

“Not… lie, hon, just… let them see the real you… be the person they’ve always known… the one who sits on their couch with them every morning, the one who captured their hearts during two Olympics.”

Tessa’s phone vibrates against her hand.

“Okay,” she sighs. “Look, Mom, I gotta go, I’ll call you tomorrow okay?”

“Okay, hon, goodnight.”

“’Night.”

She hits the messaging app the minute the call disconnects.  
 

**_Catherine wants to see us tomorrow._ **

**_7.30 am._ **

**_Sorry._ **

**_Maddy_ ** _**x**  
_

Tessa sighs.

“ _Fan…tastic._ ”

* * *

 

Tessa tries not to look at Catherine directly for fear she may spontaneously combust under the steel of her gaze.

It’s Saturday – technically her day off – but instead of sleeping in and getting lost in a book, she’s down at the studio with a board full of execs and Maddy, trying her best not to wilt under the scrutiny.

“Couldn’t I just… apologise?” Tessa asks, meekly. “Tell everybody that I _love_ Christmas?”

Catherine looks at her – not unkindly but certainly with the air of someone who does not care for mess.

“You were trending on Twitter,” she says.

“I was?”

She grits her teeth, fighting the curiosity to know what others had said about her.

 _It’s probably best I don’t know_ , she thinks.

Catherine rustles the sheet in front of her and lowers her glasses to the edge of her nose, peering over them rather than through. Beside her, Tessa can see Maddy fighting to cover a smirk. Their CEO was not one to be told by anyone that she had reached an age where she now requires reading glasses. Catherine clears her throat, ensuring that all eyes were upon her.

“Hashtag – avirtualdisaster. Hashtag - tessatackleschristmas. Hashtag - byvirtuenotbaubels. Hashtag - tessahateschristmas.”

She says that last one slowly, punctuating each syllable.

Tessa puts her head in her hands.

“I mean… I could still try - right?” she says.

“Would you mean it?” Catherine asks.

Tessa shakes her head.

She was good at her job – she was – but there was simply no way she could go out there and lie convincingly. She couldn’t tell millions of people about the magic of Christmas when she didn’t believe in it. They would see right through her. And they’d hate her even more for it.

Catherine looks around the room.

“Right, so, damage control.”

Tessa looks around the table in alarm.

“Is that really necessary?”

Judging by each of their expressions, it was.

“Is it… bad?” she asks.

Their collective cringe is enough of an answer.

“People are not happy, Tess,” Catherine tells her. “I drove through a picket line this morning.”

“For real?” Maddy says. “It must be nice to have so much free time that you can just stand outside a building in the cold with your cardboard sign, protesting people being human.”

Catherine raises an eyebrow, conceding the point.

“Nevertheless,” she says. “This is not the time of year to risk losing viewers.”

Tessa presses the heels of her palms against her eyes, suddenly very tired.

She’d barely slept, tossing and turning against her pillows, playing the moment over and over in her mind. And during the lull, the brief interlude between exhaustion and the last vestiges of consciousness, her entire life flashed beneath her eyelids and every mistake she’d ever made lit up in her mind like Christmas lights, pulsing in and out, and creating a wave of self-doubt.

She’d given up eventually, hitting the gym in the early hours of the morning – a _Maple Leafs_ cap slung low over her brow (just in case) – before making her way to the studio a couple of hours before she really needed to.

She really hopes Catherine is exaggerating this one and that people aren’t outside right now protesting her very existence. Things were bad enough.

“Tessa, I have to be honest here,” Catherine says. “We fielded a lot of calls yesterday – Peter how many calls did we get?”

Peter Wilson – their PR guru – tears his eyes away from his iPad, giving a cursory glance to Tessa, before flicking his eyes to Catherine and giving her some sort of coded shrug.

Tessa thinks he looks bored. Either that, or he’s trying to work out why all of this was worth getting out of bed for. All she’d said was that she didn’t like Christmas. How did this warrant an intervention of this scale?

She feels the guilt tugging at her chest, knowing that some of the people sitting around this table had probably only left the building well after midnight – and now they were _back_ here because of something _she’d_ done.

Everybody else is bobbing their heads backwards and forwards between Catherine and Peter, expectantly, and she’s a little relieved that nobody else seemed able to translate Peter’s strange mechanical shoulder movements either.

Catherine, however, nods, clearly satisfied that Peter had confirmed her findings and that Tessa, through the sheer act of existing, had somehow kick-started the advance of the four horsemen.

“Catherine?”

All heads turn toward Brian, one of the studio execs.

“Look, I know this is a less than ideal situation,” he says. “But… people are entitled to not like the holidays. Plenty of people don’t even celebrate Christmas at all. Surely this is just being blown way out of proportion?”

Catherine fixes him with a stare – she obviously disagrees.

Tessa shoots Brian a tense smile, grateful for the defense but equally trying to communicate to him to stop digging a hole alongside her. Better to let her bury herself in this snow storm of a mess.

“ _Yes_ ,” Catherine says, her voice raised above normal. “Plenty of people _don’t_ enjoy the holidays and all the festive _crap_ that comes with it.”

Everybody at the table looks back at her, eyes wide.

“I, for instance, am going to have to spend the early hours of Christmas Eve setting up two Playstations and downloading four hours worth of updates so that when my device-hungry teenagers tear through the house _screaming_ and rip open their gifts at 8am, _I_ do not have to deal with their incessant whining that Christmas is _cancelled_ because they can’t play any of the hundreds of dollars worth of games they’ve now tossed aside because _Sony_ in their infinite wisdom sells a product that needs an update the second it’s out of the _box_!”

Tessa – who was always taught to look at others and listen when they speak – finds she’s the only one still looking at their CEO. Everybody else is staring awkwardly at their fingers – possibly wishing they were anywhere but here, listening to Catherine talk about her kids.

The guilt wave hits her again, and she wonders – not for the first time – why she didn’t just let it go, take the ornament, and thank the weird guy from Saskatoon, who travels all over the world looking for baubles carved by gnomes and tinsel birthed by rainbows. _Why_ , when she’d survived _this_ long without anybody having any real idea how much she hated Christmas, did she have to go and tell _Mr._ Christmas himself, that it just wasn’t her thing?

She catches Peter’s eye and he gives her a look of sympathy. Clearly, he’s still wondering why he’s here.

Catherine clears her throat again, her eyes ordering everyone there to forget her misstep in oversharing. She gives a quick nod, even though everyone else but Tessa is examining the crease lines between their knuckles. Her eyes soften, momentarily, before they’re back to business.

“You know what our _sponsors_ care about?” she says.

Tessa doesn’t answer – nor does anyone else.

“Ratings,” she continues. “No sponsors? No Morning Show with Tessa Virtue. You see where I’m going with this? The sponsors are not happy, Tess and _that_ is the problem. People with cardboard signs, I can handle, but after the whole Elliot fiasco, this show – _your_ show – and _this_ network cannot take another hit like that.

Tessa winces at the mention of her former co-host who had been booted off the show without ceremony and his building access revoked, before the metaphorical ink had dried on his walking papers.

“Catherine,” Maddy says, and Tessa can feel the eyeroll behind her even though she can’t see it. “ _Come on_ , Tess is _not_ Elliot Gold. The guy was _embezzling_ , he was going into Accounts with his _pants_ unzipped, and he was screwing _everybody_ – literally and figuratively.  A year ago, _none_ of you thought this show could be saved, but it _was_ … _because_ of Tessa Virtue.  You left her alone to do her job and she _single-handedly_ brought mornings back to life, saved _all_ your asses, got _more_ viewers on board than you’d ever seen before, and once a week, at least _half_ those people get a good workout and we all start to believe that maybe, just one day, we’ll _all_ have her abs.”

Tessa tightens her lips to hide a smile. Maddy was a force when crossed, and she knows her producer still feels the weight of that scandal – as if she should have been the one to see it coming, instead of the young intern they’d found crying in the washroom one morning.

Catherine tilts her head, the only acknowledgement the CEO would give to indicate that Maddy had a point.

Peter makes a face, clearly agreeing with Maddy’s assessment of the situation.

“Okay,” Maddy says. “So, if we’re _all_ in agreement then why are we _here_ at this unholy hour?”

Catherine sighs, although it’s one stretched with patience.

“Because,” she says. “It’s _one_ thing not to celebrate it. It’s _one_ thing to hate Christmas, and _believe_ me, I’m all for people being free to spend their time dreading the damn holiday if they need to. But do you _know_ when we _set_ aside our loathing, pretend that Christmas is _not_ a shit-fest, and categorically _abandon_ our beliefs, wants, and desires?”

The table awaits her answer, knowing anything they might have to add is irrelevant right now.

“When you’re _on_ TV, averaging five and half million viewers a day, and the entire goddamn _country_ is watching.”

Tessa lowers her eyes, blinking quickly against the sting.

“So, the question is _now_ , how do we fix this?”

Tessa glances at Maddy, wondering if this meant that they _weren’t_ , in fact, being fired over this.

“Fix?” Tessa croaks, swallowing against the dryness that had crept into her throat.

“Yes. Fix,” Catherine replies. “You have an image problem, Tess. And shows have been _cancelled_ for less.”

Tessa closes her eyes briefly, in acceptance.

“Actually,” Maddy says. “I may have an answer to that one.”

Catherine spreads her palms, inviting any suggestion.

Maddy shoots a quick glance at Tessa – in – apology?

Tessa’s brow furrows, wondering why her producer suddenly looks like she’s been caught with her hand in the cookie jar.

Maddy swipes at the screen on her phone and aims it at the television on the wall of the room. Tessa swivels in her chair to get a better look and pales at the familiar face smiling back at her.

_“Hi Tessa. It’s Harry Thompson here, I’m the town selectman for Mistleton, the biggest little Christmas town in Ontario and dare I say it - well yes, I do - in the country!”_

The only thing keeping Tessa from rolling her eyes, is her surprise. As if she could forget the man who made it his business to know everybody else’s. His beard had grown out since the last time she’d seen him (a little over four years ago now) and hair that had once been peppered, was now a shock of white – making him look more like Santa Claus than ever.

 _“Although you may well remember me as the proprietor of Waffleton, I do believe,”_ he continues, chuckling to himself, presumably at the play on his diner’s name, or the notion that she needed the reminder. _“Ah yes, I have such fond memories of you as a child,_ running _through my doors after a skate at the rink,_ celebrating _your success by enjoying a pint of my finest chocolate-fudge...”_

Tessa wants to point out that said pint was usually split a half dozen ways and by the time the boys were through with it, there was precious little room for enjoying much of anything.

Her stomach does a strange roll just then and she realises how long it’s been since she was – for want of an easier word – home. A Toronto native she might be, but a little over an hour away, tucked just beyond the shores of the lake, was Mistleton, the town that gave her the foundations she’d needed to go onto become an Olympic champion… a point she’s pretty sure its town selectman was now trying to make by rambling on about heritage and family and the glorious transformation of its streets at Christmas time.

Tessa’s stomach does another flip at the grainy footage on the screen, nearly white-washed with age.

 _“… and the traditional Christmas Skating Carnival that we celebrate every year,”_ Harry was saying, as Tessa tries to shake her head free of the sudden image of her ten-year-old self, with her skates and her angel wings, being twirled on the ice by a twelve-year-old boy a head taller than she was, who’s face was as familiar to her, as her own.

 _Scott_ , she thinks, with a small inward smile. How he’d hated that Santa costume.

 _“And so,”_ Harry continues. “ _We would like to invite you_ back _to Mistleton this Christmas, so that_ you _can rediscover its magic and spirit, to see for yourself what this holiday is really about and share your heartfelt discoveries with the rest of the country too.”_

Tessa stares at the screen as it turns black.

“You have _got_ to be kidding me,” she says, swinging her chair back to the table.

By the look of maniacal glee on Catherine’s Tait’s face, it’s clear that everybody in the room thinks this is the best idea since Coke turned Santa Claus, red.

She turns to look at Maddy, who has the grace – at least – to look apologetic. Her producer doesn’t know the full story, but she knows enough to understand that this was the _worst_ possible thing she could have done.

“I love it,” Catherine says. “Maddy, you’re going too. I want a daily segment, you can edit on the road. Take Steven with you, he has no life and he works wonders with a camera.”

“I have not been back to Mistleton in _four_ years!” Tessa says, trying to emphasise that sending her there _now_ is unlikely to have the impact they so desperately want it to.

Catherine is not even listening to her – she’s gazing out the expanse of window, taking in the city as dawn finishes shaking off the last vestiges of night and the familiar skyline is no longer caked in shadow.

“A hometown reunion,” she says, clapping her hands together, as if she’d come up with the idea herself. “It’s _perfect_. We’ll call it: _Finding_ Christmas.”

She turns suddenly, taking her seat at the head of the table and directing her gaze at Tessa.

“So. We’ll get a couple stand-ins for the show while you’re gone,” she says. “In the meantime, you’ll have audiences eating out of your hand, surrounded by wreathes and holly and crowns of tinsel with _those_ cheekbones and that mega-watt smile of yours. Clara!”

Catherine turns to her P.A. who has been sitting alongside her the entire time, silently taking notes.

“See if you can do a little digging, find out the local singles scene – Tessa didn’t you date a guy from there once? Is he still available?”

Tessa opens her mouth to speak but nothing comes out.

 “We’ll rustle up some good-looking boys and Steve can work his magic on getting them in the picture,” Catherine continues. “People eat that Hallmark romance stuff right up.”

Tessa’s face floods with heat.

“Oh relax, Tess,” she says. “I’m not asking you to _do_ anything with them, just… _pick_ one and make it _look_ like you are.  _Make_ people buy it, just like you do with all those sports bras.”

Tessa thinks it’s right about time that the floor open up and swallow her whole.

Her boss is sending her to Mistleton – the town she’d sooner forget if it were possible. A town she knew… a town that knew _her_.  A town which, for all its eccentricities, was part of the reason why she now chose to skip Christmas.

And now they were sending her back there, where she’d have to face a hurt she’d buried at the lodge on the lake, the only evidence of her goodbye, a series of hurried footprints in the snow.

She couldn’t go back there. She’d moved on from that life, from her former career. She’d found sponsorships with sporting brands, created partnerships within the fashion industry, had success on television playing the only person she ever wanted to be – herself.

But was she really herself when she’d left so much of it behind her?

This wasn’t a question she knew how to answer.

And it certainly wasn’t a question she wanted Mistleton to answer either.

But this was her job – her career – on the line here. Was she really in a position to say ‘no’?

“Well?” Catherine says, the bite to her voice indicating that her time was needed elsewhere.

Maddy spreads her hands.

“If you think it’ll work.”

Tessa takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly.

“I’ve spent half my life in front of a camera,” she says, with a confidence she doesn’t yet feel. “I can _make_ it work.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up next: Scott buys his sixth Christmas tree of the season, Tessa tries to deal with some unsettling news, and the town of Mistleton works an interesting kind of magic to bring the former skating partners back together for one holy fright.


	3. Oh Holy Fright

Scott blinks at the radio then stares at the dial, as if the heat building up behind his eyes could sear the control panel right off. It’s fortunate he knows these roads so well, otherwise he’s pretty sure the truck would be side-up in a ditch right about now and he’d be climbing out through the window before the freshly falling snow could bury him there.

Tessa Virtue was coming home to Mistleton.

At least, he’s pretty sure that’s what he heard.

Tessa.

His Tessa.

Well, not _his_ Tessa, he amends, with a pang somewhere between guilt and regret, but, yes, in many ways she was his Tessa. The girl who’d taken his (somewhat sweaty) hand when he was just nine years-old and had held it the rest of his childhood – had continued to hold it sometime after – even though they’d often driven each other crazy through sheer proximity to one another… even through the awkwardness of her dating one of his best friends, and the inevitable fallout thereafter.

He hasn’t seen her since – _wow_ – park that thought.

She’d been upset – understandably so – and he’s pretty sure he should have handled things… well… differently.  But suddenly in a world where they’d had nothing _but_ time – the sum of their combined hours on this earth determining that they’d been circling each other’s orbit more than they ever had any one else's, including their families – it ran out. Their skating partnership had ended earlier that year, four years longer than either of them thought it would last, having briefly called it quits a few months after their gold medal win. It was a fate not necessarily of their choosing, decided both by the chronic injury in Tessa’s legs as well as his own desire to keep the peace between him and his long-time friend. He had wanted to salvage it for the two of _them_ and stepping away from it had seemed like… like the right thing to do.

He sighs at the memory. Because in the end, he’d realised there wasn’t much left to salvage and he was left holding a ball he wasn’t sure how to play. He remembers telling her that day – the day of their Olympic Homecoming Parade – that her boyfriend of five years, his friend of twelve, had gone. She’d simply nodded and said, “I know,” before taking his hand and heading out of the Mistleton rink where the horse and carriage awaited them. The irony of him choosing the girl who he’d always resented a little when they were teenagers for coming in between their boyhood shenanigans, not lost on either of them.

And now she was coming back.

She was coming back and he honest to God, did not know how he felt about that.

He’d seen the broadcast – the entire _town_ had seen it – and he’d endured an entire day of his mother and Aunt clucking in sympathy. His father was currently pretending he hadn’t seen anything. Scott smiles a little at that, acknowledging that it was his way of protecting Tess, loyalty to his son’s former skating partner outweighing any embarrassing news headline she might have found herself under.

Scott pulls off the road, following the sign for ‘Christmas Trees’ and pulling into the lot alongside a dozen other vehicles, some of which are already sporting six-footers on their rooftops.

“Another one?”

Scott nods, gamely.

“Thanks, Tim,” he says, shaking hands with the guy who’s sold him six trees so far.

“You gotta stop doing people favours, Scott, my boy.”

“Hard _not_ to when it’s your own family,” Scott replies, with a grin.

“Yeah, I guess half the town _is_ made up of Moirs,” Jim replies, handing Scott the electronic card terminal so he can key in his pin.

“I know,” Scott replies. “We’re a real plague, eh?”

The man smiles.

“But good for business,” he replies, helping Scott to secure the tree onto the truck. “You won’t hear me complaining!”

“Yeah, but it’s not good for my bank account!” Scott replies, with a laugh, knowing he’ll get his money back somehow – even if he has to bounce from house to house between Christmas Eve and New Years and clean out all their refrigerators.

He’s back on the road in five - the farmer having told him to drive safely in the dark – and winding down country roads before taking the exit for Mistleton trying not to think about the colour of the Scots Pine above him, the green of its branches reminding him of eyes he hasn’t seen in a long, long time.  


* * *

Tessa takes the turn off the highway, having skipped out of town the minute she’d filmed introductions and smiled beatifically at an – admittedly beautiful – string of shop window garlands. She’d barely been there a minute before eight people she knew had stopped to greet her. It was all so awkward - the polite smiles, the mutual enquiries as to the health of their families, the inevitable compliments and congratulations on her success in Toronto all the while side-stepping the monumental, embarrassing encounter that had forced her back here. If she’s honest, it probably wouldn’t have been so bad if it weren’t for her shadow and the camera hanging over his shoulder, filming every step she took, her life now a reality show for broadcast entertainment.

The open roads on the outskirts of town provide a haven away from all of that. It’s dark and it’s quiet and she doesn’t have to think about Maddy sitting at the Mistleton Inn, surrounded by three large computer screens and her editing software.

She inhales slowly, holding it there, before a gentle release, repeating the exercise five times over and trying to rid herself of the tension pitted in her belly. She needs a distraction – something to take her mind off the fact that she’d caught Steve laughing at his phone during a break, only to discover that someone had photoshopped her head onto _The Grinch_. He’d had the grace to look ashamed, but Tessa – who wasn’t nearly confrontational enough to have called him out for it – pretended to take it in stride, laughing at the image and trying to ease the cameraman’s worries at being caught red-handed. She knew she’d been soft on him but really, at this point, she needs as many friends as she can get.

She makes a turn, not really caring where it leads, just trying to escape her feelings, thinking, that if she tries hard enough, she really could outrun Christmas.

Her phone starts to ring, the light from the display indicating it was her mother. She shakes her head to clear her thoughts and reaches out for the hands-free, hitting the green button.

“Hey, Mom,” she says.

_“Hey, bug, how was today?”_

Tessa briefly considers the possibility of lying but the pause is all her mother needs to read the truth of it.

_“That bad, huh?”_

Tessa sighs.

“It was just… it was a lot,” she confesses.

_“I can imagine,”_ her mother replies. _“I’m so sorry you’re having to do all this.”_

“It’s all my fault,” Tessa says. “I _never_ lose it like that, _ever_ , not in public, not in front of strangers and I just… God, Mom, what _possessed_ me to throw a sweet little man into a _Christmas_ tree?”

_“Okay, honey, first of all… breathe,”_ comes the reply. _“Secondly, you did not… throw anyone… into a tree. It was an accident. And the Internet is just being the Internet because that is where people can hide in relative anonymity and throw stones at others to try and distance themselves from their own problems.”_

“Oh, Mom,” she groans, lifting a hand from the wheel to press it against the ache in her forehead. “I don’t think I can do this.”

_“Yes, baby, you can. You can do anything. Haven’t I always taught you that?”_

Tessa nods.

“You have.”

“Then do it,” her mother tells her. “Win them over. Win them _all_ over. Just like you and Scott did when you were skating.”

_Scott._

It was a name they’d circumvented for many years – not completely, of course, because her partnership with him had captured the hearts of the entire country and in many ways, her name was still synonymous with his – but she did wonder why now of all times, her mother had decided to drop him into the conversation.

Tessa feels the wisest course of action is to deflect.

“I’m working on it,” she says, sending a silent message to her mother that Scott is a topic of conversation she isn't ready for.

She bears no ill-will towards him but that also doesn’t mean she wants to talk about him anymore than she _has_ done. As far as she’s concerned that part of her life is long since over and she’d worked hard to carve a life for herself outside the realm and pressures of figure skating.

_“Good,”_ her mother replies, simply, letting Tessa know that she’d got the message. _“Where are you now?”_

“Driving,” Tessa says. “I needed to clear my head.”

_“I understand.”_

Tessa frowns. She’d been so wrapped up in her own feelings, she’d missed it but…

“Mom, are you okay?”

Her mother sighs. It’s weighted and filled with sadness.

"Hang on, let me pull over," Tessa says, passing a small intersection, before moving off to the side of it. “Mom?”

_“I’ve decided to sell the Lodge.”_

“The… you mean… our…”

_“Yes, hon, the one in Mistleton.”_

The ache in her gut returns and she’s not sure what to say.

_“Tess? Did you hear me?”_

“Oh,” Tessa replies.

Probably not the best answer she could have given her mother under the circumstances.

“Why?” she adds, the conflict of emotions declaring battle in her mind.

“Because it’s time,” comes the reply. “Truth is, I’ve been thinking about it for a while now and just… couldn’t bring myself to do it. I felt like I’d be selling all of our memories.”

“Not all memories are worth keeping, Mom,” Tessa points out, and she hates the bitterness creeping into her voice.

_“Tess,”_ her mother says, gently. _“You have every right to your feelings, but let’s not throw away the years we had before that. We both know that we’ve celebrated more there than we’ve ever lost.”_

Tessa remains silent. This is not a conversation she wants to have.

_“Tess, I know that loss has stayed with you and I won’t presume to tell you how to feel about it, but I remember the good times too. And it’s the reason I could never bring myself to give it up.”_

“So, what’s changed?” Tessa asks.

_“You being there has reminded me of just how long it’s been… and as much as we might have continued on with holiday traditions, you and I both know I would never have got you out there.”_

“Are you saying it’s my fault?”

“No, honey,” her mother replies, softly. “It’s _not_ your fault. It’s not anyone’s… fault. But the Lodge has stood empty a long time… and it’s time to let it go.”

Tessa blinks back tears, fighting against an emotion she can’t name.

Virtue Lodge had been in her family longer than she could remember – in fact, it was probably the only memory that rivaled the one held by Scott. Granted she’d not been there in four years, and had no desire to visit there now, but _never_ in her wildest dreams had she imagined that one day it would not be theirs.

“Mom… are you… sure?” she says.

Her voice sounds heavy in her ears.

_“I’m sure,”_ her mother replies. _“I’ve already spoken to the boys and Jordan.”_

Tessa smiles at the way she calls her brothers “boys”, considering both Kevin and Casey are grown men with families of their own.

_“They seemed to understand and support the decision to sell.”_

Tessa feels a thousand memories flooding through her at once: bare toes on summer sand; the smell of camp fire in the Fall; spying on her sister as she disappeared into the bushes with a boy from down the beach; stolen kisses of her own, beneath the overhang of Spring blossom; and a lifetime of Christmases spent together with music, and laughter, and joy.

“I guess… if you feel that’s best,” Tessa replies, throwing off the sensation that her mother was making a terrible mistake.

Why _should_ she hold onto it, when no one had any intention of using it anymore? For posterity’s sake? Hardly a reason when her brothers had their own lives and Jordan preferred trips abroad. It occurs to her that maybe her mother had been keeping it for _her_ \- waiting for Tessa to come to terms and say goodbye, and she feels guilty and foolish for having ignored the situation as long as she had.

_“The question is,_ ” her mother says, interrupting Tessa’s thoughts. _“Do you?”_

“I…”

_Dammit, why am I hesitating like this?_

“Yeah,” she says finally. “Yeah, sell it.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah,” she repeats, hoping she at least _sounds_ convincing. “Look, Mom, I gotta go, the roads are pretty dark, and I’ve turned myself around somewhere.”

_“Okay, hon. Drive safe.”_

“I will. Bye, Mom.”

She waits for the call to end, before heaving a sigh that shudders right across her shoulders and travels down her spine. Resting her head against the wheel, she takes another count of five breaths, pushing out the anxiety that threatens to overwhelm her.

She’s not altogether sure how long she’s been out here, and sleep is probably better for her right now than wandering around in the middle of nowhere. Giving her cheeks a gentle slap, she turns the key in the ignition, sticks her SUV in drive, and swings it ‘round onto the road, turning back towards the intersection…

There's a sudden blast of horn and Tessa's neck jerks with the impact as the truck hits her head on, its lights temporarily blinding her, before the airbag engulfs her in darkness. She hears something clunk against the hood, the hard knock of something heavy falling across the engine, followed by scratches on glass.

She’s a little dazed, and there’s a sting across her temple, but otherwise, she feels unharmed. Tessa swipes at the airbag, pushing it out of the way, and climbing – shakily – out of her car. The headlights from both vehicles bathe the intersection she’d swung into – and even in her panic, she berates herself for pulling off like she did, assuming these back-water roads would be quiet. It could have been a lot worse if the car she’d swung into had been travelling at high speed, rather than turning into the road.

Tessa walks down the length of the car, ‘rounding the other side to check on the driver of the other vehicle. She’s stopped by the sight of the impact, realising that the thing she’d felt fall against the front of the SUV was an enormous Christmas tree, it’s branches now unceremoniously sprawled across her windshield.

Her hands reach automatically for her cheeks, trying to fathom what on earth she’d just done.

There’s movement in her periphery and she turns her head to see the guy she’d hit leaning over the top of the driver-door and giving her a wry look.

“So… you’re hitting people with your car now, eh?” he drawls. 

Tessa's eyes widen, her mouth dropping open in response.

"Scott," she says, her voice sounding breathy in her ears.

"Hey, Tess," he says. “So... is it just because it's me? Or are you trying to make sure nobody _else_ gets a tree this year?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up next: On a dark Winter's night, just outside the streets of Mistleton, Scott continues to find the situation hilarious while Tessa tries her best not to murder him.


	4. Moir's Boychild

_This is ridiculous_ , Tessa thinks, _even for a small town._

She’s sitting on the back of the ambulance, its lights flashing furiously overhead, warning anyone and everyone nearby that some great calamity – _obviously_ named Tessa Jane McCormick Virtue – has besieged their humble town and exposed them all to a chaos that rode in on the back of her rather serious (and now clearly, national) case of the _bah humbugs_.

She lowers the icepack from her head to her lap, watching the coloured patterns dance across her denims as the lights rotate above her, and tries _desperately_ to ignore the man alongside her who seems to be thoroughly enjoying the fact that they’re surrounded by the local sheriff’s office, the fire department, the paramedics (of course), two mounted police officers, and about one third of the town.

Both Scott’s truck and her SUV are still in the middle of the road, largely due to the recovery men who can’t stop laughing at the Christmas tree lying limp across the two vehicles, its trunk cracked somewhere near the middle, twisted branches shedding needles with each attempt to move it.

She watches as both men finally grab hold either side, lifting it clear, and she tries not to wince at the damage now that her view is no longer obstructed. They shimmy along, wheezing every time needles rain down over their boots, shifting the tree to the side of the road.

They’re almost there before the weight of its centre drags the lower half down and the trunk snaps in two sending both the tree and the men to the floor. They’re crying with laughter – as are the emergency service personal.

She could have taken it, could have handled it all with humour and grace, if it weren’t for the idiot alongside her who was pointing and cackling in (what could only be described as) utter glee. His chin is tipped upwards, mouth pulled back in a grin so wide it leaves his upper gum exposed while laughter lines crease the corners of his eyes. His shoulders shake as his laugh comes out in bursts of loud hisses.

Tessa glares at him.

“You know you’re in very real danger of being murdered right now?” she says.

But Scott is not in the least bit concerned by her threat, and when the tip of the tree snaps off in the guy’s hand as he attempts to recover his broken half, Scott’s laughter only gets louder. He’s bent near double, slapping his knee and stomping both feet in quick succession.

Her mouth gapes, and she wonders if anyone would notice if she stuffed a wad of gauze into his mouth. Given the number of eyes on her at this very moment, she’s pretty sure her chances were slim to none.

She sighs, raising the ice-pack to her temple once more, trying to block them all from view and wishing she was anywhere but here.

“Lighten up, Virtch,” he says, bopping his closed fist against her thigh. “It’s just like the Homecoming Parade… except… _this_ time, instead of folks celebrating your victory with you and your skating partner, they’ll be talking about how you tried to run him off the road.”

“Stop it.”

“Because you were offended by my Christmas Tree.”

“I swear to God…”

“Next time I better make sure I’m hauling a truck full of Ficus,” he says.  “They might have fared better.”

“Scott.”

“Maybe it was the _type_ of tree. Do you have a preference?” he asks. “Y’know, just in case I chance it again?”

“Could we not do this?”

“It was a Scots Pine,” he says, completely ignoring her. “I mean, they’re beautiful and look great next to a fireplace.”

“ _Scott._ ”

“What if I’d gone for Spruce or Fir?” he says, tapping his nose with a finger and irritating her thoroughly. “Would _that_ have worked for you?”

“I swear I’m going to -”

“What? Stab me with pinecones? Beat me with a bauble?”

She rolls her eyes.

“You know, you’re _awfully_ chipper for a guy whose truck is about to need some serious body work.”

He cocks his head at her, one eyebrow shooting toward his hairline.

“Worth it,” he says. “To spend this quality time with you.”

He waves to the crowd of onlookers and Tessa can see a dozen or so Moirs among them.

Scott leans over into her ear.

“You’ll never get us all,” he whispers.

“I hate you,” she sighs.

He smirks at the win, raising one hand to his mother who hurries over to them, her face filled with concern. His father, Joe, is not far behind her.

“Tess!” Alma says, folding Tessa into the warmth of her embrace.

Tessa’s not sure what to say, her confusion mirroring Scott’s.

“Uh – hi Ma,” he says. “It’s me, Scott. Your _son_ , remember?”

Alma Moir clucks and reaches one arm out to palm his cheek.

“Well there _are_ so many of you,” she replies, smiling at him with obvious affection.

“Are you both alright?” Joe Moir asks.

Tessa nods mutely.

She hasn’t seen either one of them in four years and the guilt of that knowledge is creeping in fast.

“We’re fine, Ma,” he says. “Tess just thought the fair started a little early this year… wanted to ride on those bumper cars.”

Tessa looks away.

“Scott,” Joe says, his voice short with warning. “Be nice.”

Scott raises his palms and shrugs but is otherwise silent.

Tessa allows Alma to fuss over her a little as she tuts sympathetically at the cut along her hairline, pressing gentle fingers into the waves of hair that had slipped loose of her ponytail. She’d known Alma Moir since she was seven years-old, and if there was any other substitute for her _own_ mother right now, it was Scott’s.

She can feel the lump forming in the back of her throat as Alma brushes gently at her cheeks and she dare not speak for fear of whatever sound might come out in reply. She’d never really meant to let it get this far, to the point where she’d cut so many people out of her life. But the Moirs were synonymous with Mistleton, and it was Mistleton she had been looking to escape.

“You’re alright, dove,” Alma says, cupping Tessa’s chin. “You’re going to come home with me and have some tea.”

Tessa looks somewhat alarmed at this idea. This wasn’t part of her plan.

It was never her intention to come back to Mistleton and rekindle old connections. She’d strategized, time-tabled, made sure that every moment would be accounted for. And when the cameras were off, she could hide in her room with her mountain of books or drive up to Hamilton and use one of the gyms there. Nowhere in any part of her plan did it say she would be drinking tea with the locals – especially the Moirs. This was a PR exercise and anything more than that presented a danger that Tessa just wasn’t willing to face.

“That really isn’t necessary, Alma,” she says, hating the way her voice betrays her emotions.

“It’s already decided,” Alma replies, brooking no argument. “Come on, Joe, let’s go find out how long these kids have to be out here in the cold.”

Tessa watches them go, her sadness and guilt flooding what remained of her senses.

“You’ll notice how _I_ wasn’t invited,” Scott says, shaking his head and frowning after his parents.

She tries not to smile, fighting the twitch that threatens her lips. She can feel him watching her, gauging her response and when he’s satisfied that he’s amused her, he relaxes once more, grabbing a few balls of bandaging and beginning to juggle them where he sits.

Tessa looks at him then, her curiosity beating out the desire to keep a very firm lid on the box that she’d previously put him in and she realises he looks very much the same. Same boyish features, same disarming smile, same long, regal nose, same jawline that ticked when he was tense or jealous.

He looks good, she admits, her eyes casting over the rest of him, resting briefly on the raised curve of muscle beneath his sleeve. She thinks he must be cold, and wonders for a minute what had happened to his jacket, before she realises that at some point between the crash and the arrival of the authorities, he must have wrapped it around her.

“See anything you like?” he says.

“What?” she replies, startled.

“Should I lift up my shirt?” he asks. “Wanna see if I follow _Tessa’s Fab Abs_?”

“Oh… shut up,” she replies, with a sigh.

“Hey, thought we didn’t say ‘shut up’?” he says, his expression mock-serious.

“Well… then… just… _jingle_ all the way, why don’t you?”

He laughs at that, his shoulders beginning to shake all over again.

She watches him squeeze his eyes between thumb and forefinger, wiping at the moisture pooling in its corners.

“Ah, Tess,” he says. “I’ve missed you.”

She’s a little taken aback by that. Sure, they’d worked well together but sometimes their partnership and drive had come at great personal cost. Tessa’s very aware that she’s the reason he lost one of his closest friends, and she’s also cognizant of the fact that back when they were teenagers, he wasn’t altogether happy with having to spend time with her outside of skating. Their relationship had improved between Olympics – when the reality of their circumstances isolated them to a point where they really only had each other – but still, she’s surprised to hear him say he’s missed her, if only because his presence here is having a calming influence on her (even if she _does_ want to smack him a little).

“Uh… what the f-”

Tessa snaps out of her reverie and follows his gaze.

“Oh no,” she says.

“Friend of yours?” Scott asks, nodding in the direction of the burly guy climbing out of the large blue van and hefting a rather sizeable camera over his shoulder.

“That’s Steve.”

“Steve?”

“My cameraman.”

“Your… cameraman?”

“Yes.”

“You have your own personal cameraman?”

“ _No._ ”

“Does he just follow you around and take pictures all day?”

_Sigh._

“No.”

“I mean, I guess your Instagram _is_ pretty curated sometimes.”

She raises an eyebrow at him.

“I’ve read,” he adds, with a cough.

“He’s with the network,” she says.

“Ah, yes, the _network_ … CBC,” he says, elongating the final C. “I’m _Elliot Gold_ and _I’m_ Tessa Virtue, _good_ morning Canada, it’s a brand-new day so _let’s_ make it a good one!”

She takes it back, she’d happily strangle him with tinsel right about now.

“Guess you have a thing for gold, eh?”

Her head turns sharply toward him.

“You know Elliot left the show a _year_ ago, right?” she says, not rising to the bait. “And he was a complete _jerk_.”

He nods his reply, but she doesn’t miss the ball of tension, ticking in his jaw. He never did like it when she was partnered with somebody else.

“Tessa!”

She looks out, just beyond Steve and finds Maddy slip-sliding across the icy stretch of road toward her.

“Oh my God, are you alright?”

Tessa nods.

“I’m fine, Mads,” Tessa replies. “How did you know I was here?”

“Are you kidding?” Maddy says. “It was all over town.”

“Of _course,_ it was.”

Tessa points toward the van.

“Was _that_ necessary?” she asks, trying to ignore the red light being emitted from the camera.

Maddy spares a glance for Steve.

“He offered to drive me.”

Tessa sighs.

“Of course, he did.”

Maddy switches her attention to Scott.

“Oh my God,” she says. “Scott Moir.”

Tessa rolls her eyes.

“Scott, Maddy. Maddy, Scott,” she says, by way of introduction.

“My wife loves you,” Maddy tells him. “You are probably the _only_ man whose babies she would consider having.”

Scott smiles.

“Tell her I would be delighted,” he says.

Maddy turns to Tessa.

“He’s cute,” she says.

“Don’t feed his ego,” she replies. “It’s big enough as it is.”

“No, please,” Scott says. “Feed it. I need the gratification.”

Tessa sends him a side-long look, noticing how red-faced he’d become in the cold.

“Isn’t there a sleigh you could be guiding somewhere?” she says, pushing at his nose with her finger.

Scott is completely unfazed by her dig and stares directly into the camera hovering just over Maddy’s shoulder.

“ _Hi_! I’m Scott Moir and _this_ here is Tessa Virtue,” he says, jerking his thumb in her direction. “And if _you_ were expecting a silent night here in good ol’ Mistleton, you better think again. In this town, we celebrate Christmas in style – people come for miles around to take in its beautiful sights, sounds, and smells of the holiday. But… you _better_ watch out… you better not… take your eyes off the road… or you _just_ might find yourself sitting out here in the middle of the night with your former skating partner… and a Christmas Tree _lodged_ inside your vehicle."

“Well Scott,” Tessa replies. “Maybe it’s because you chose a tree not native to Canada and we all know how patriotic you can be, so really, I was just saving you from yourself.”

“And what a way to do it,” Scott says.

"Thanks Moir."

“I do try,” Scott says.

 "Yes, Scott," she replies. "You're very trying."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up next: To ease Tessa's frustration, Maddy tries a new strategy and follows Tessa to the Mistleton Skating Club. Tessa just wants a little quiet time on the ice, but the Mistleton Carnival is closing in, the kids need help with their steps, and really, what's a girl to do when you find your former skating partner coaching at the rink?


	5. Choctaws Roasting on an Open Fire

“Good Morning everyone, and welcome to another day in Mistleton, the biggest little Christmas town you’ll find this holiday season. I’m Tessa Virtue, and today, we’ll be sampling the very finest festive bakes. From frosted cookies to fruit Santas, from yule logs to Christmas cake, I’ll be testing each and every sweet treat ahead of this year’s All Yule Can Eat-athon, an annual tradition going back sixty-three years, where each entry is judged by taste and merit, the final decision resting solely with the townspeople. Join me today, live on Twitter, and help _me_ decide which one of _these_ incredible treats, I should vote for.”

Tessa pops the strawberry Santa into her mouth, laughing at the whipped cream that slips out of its center and smacks her on the chin.

Maddy pauses the computer screen and glances at Tessa who is sitting alongside her.

“That was perfect,” she says. “Couldn’t have been better even if I’d _planned_ it.”

Tessa smiles and tucks a damp strand of hair behind her ears. She watches her producer slip the prerecording into the video software, working her magic and merging it with the other clips they’d filmed that day, before and during the Eat-athon.

It was a good day and Tessa certainly remembers how much she’d loved it as a child. It’s been a long time since she’d been to one, accounting for the fact that she and Scott missed a lot of them when they were training at Canton. It’s strange being back here, surrounded by people she knows, by people who seem genuinely thrilled to see her, despite her on-air misstep - and it tugs at her with the same set of feelings she can’t escape. Almost a week back in Mistleton and it already feels as if she never left.

Maddy looks over to find her friend lost in thought.

“You okay?”

“I guess.”

“Well _I’m_ convinced,” Maddy says, raising her eyebrows.

Tessa smiles.

“Sorry,” she says. “I just… I can’t help but feel…”

“What?”

“Disingenuous,” she says.

Maddy frowns.

“In what way?”

“All of this…” Tessa says, waving her hand around in the air. “It’s for _show_. It’s to make people feel _better_ about me. It’s to make _me_ feel better about _myself_ , to prove I’m not some horrible human being. But I don’t really _believe_ any of it. It doesn’t make me hate the holidays any less. All it does is make me a fraud.”

“Tess,” Maddy says.

Tessa looks away, cursing the sting in her eyes.

Maddy puts a hand on her shoulder.

“Tess, you’re doing fine,” she says. “Catherine says ratings are actually _up_.”

“And social media can see right through ratings,” Tessa replies.

“What do you mean?”

“People aren’t stupid, Maddy,” Tessa says. “All this is doing is opening up a platform for others to continue to throw stones and it’s not _you_ or _Steve_ or _Catherine_ in the firing line. It’s _me_. It’s _me_ every time I check my mentions and find somebody _else_ telling me that if I’m not being my true self, that what I _present_ to the world is not _good_ enough for _their_ wants, needs, and desires, that it serves me _right_ for not being able to live up to this perfect image of myself when I have _always_ known that I am _not_ perfect.”

She gets up then, pacing the room in her dressing gown.

“I don’t _want_ to see some stranger on the Internet telling me I’m fake, or old figure skating fans resurrecting their assumptions about my past misdeeds and airing them out as laundered _fact_ , simply because I’m news at the minute. I just want to be me! And I _shouldn’t_ have to tell the country why Christmas is so hard for me. Christmas is hard for a _lot_ of people, and _nobody_ is entitled to my version of it. Elliot Gold got fired for stealing _money_ – a fact everybody knew but couldn’t prove. A month later, he gets a job on another network and suddenly he’s everybody’s best friend again. I break one tree ornament and suddenly I’m the not-so Virtuous _Grinch_ and if _I_ can’t prove to _everyone_ in _front_ of cameras that I’m somehow worthy of _being_ human, I’ll be publicly dismissed and replaced. Try dealing with _that_ , and _then_ come talk to me about ratings.”

She’s breathing hard and her skin feels clammy beneath the folds of her gown. She presses the heels of her palms against her eyes and turns back toward Maddy.

“I’m sorry,” she says, flopping down into an armchair.

Maddy doesn’t look at all perturbed by Tessa’s outburst. She purses her lips and raps her fingers against the desk.

“You know what we need?”

Tessa shakes her head.

“We _need…_ something real.”

Tessa doesn’t really want to ask what that means, she doesn’t much care either.

“You leave this with me, okay?” Maddy says, gently, coming over to wrap a comforting arm around Tessa’s shoulder. “We’re going to find a way to make this work.”

Tessa hides a sniff behind her hand and tries a smile.

“Take the day,” she says. “Find something that makes you happy and do it. No investigative reporting, no looking for festive cheer, just you. You and the town. Find your old haunts, walk down memory lane, get out of your head a bit.”

“Catherine’s not going to like that,” Tessa points out.

“Catherine can kiss my ass,” Maddy replies.

Tessa snorts.

“It’s bad enough that _my_ job is on the line here,” she says. “I’m not going to let you put yours out too.”

Maddy tilts her head and considers Tessa’s words.

“Okay, you go get dressed,” Maddy says. “Steve and I will meet you downstairs in an hour. It’s time for everyone to meet the _real_ Tessa Virtue.”

Tessa looks up in surprise.

“And just how are we going to do that?” she asks.

“By just letting the camera run,” Maddy replies, “by letting you show us your roots. And what better way to do it than by taking us back to where your journey began? To the reason why the entire country fell in love with you.”

“Uh… what?” Tessa says.

“What time does the local skating club open?”

“Why?” Tessa asks, already wary of the answer.

“Because,” Maddy replies. “On tomorrow’s segment, we’ll be going skating with _Tessa Virtue_.”

* * *

 

Scott looks on with amusement as Steve the camera guy tries his luck on Carol Moir. He’s gesticulating wildly, his arms laden down with a tripod and one enormous camera. His aunt has her arms folded across her chest and is staring up at the man with a look that brooks no argument.

Tessa is on the far side of the rink, completely ignoring the exchange, as she focuses on tying the laces of her left skate, followed by the right.

He shakes his head. Some things never change.

She doesn’t seem at all concerned that her lackey is having trouble getting his rather cumbersome equipment into the club, in fact, he’s pretty sure she knew this would happen and conveniently disappeared just before he started transporting it inside.

He’s not really sure what to do with the fact that she’s here – not Mistleton, ( _that_ he’s gotten used to), and he’s enjoyed hamming it up for the camera and pushing her buttons when she’s least expected it – but here in this building, it’s another kind of story, it’s _their_ story and he admits to having boxed that up, along with the tinsel and the tree topper, the day she’d made her retreat, running away from the warmth of the sheets that entangled them, leaving nothing behind her but footprints in the snow.

Scott shakes away the memory, feeling a sudden stab of guilt in his gut. It wasn’t Tess’s fault. It wasn’t _his_ either. She’d needed a friend and he probably shouldn’t have... well. But she was crying, and he was helpless – and he hadn’t really thought she’d respond in the way that she had. But as heat pooled between them, an urgency taking over any thought that might have cried for reason, they tangled their bodies between the sheets of her bed, their need and their hunger leaving them both trembling, and breathless and spent.

He looks down suddenly, at the dark soft foam beneath his skate guards. Now was probably not the time to be thinking about any of this. It wouldn’t do him any good and it was probably unfair to Tessa. He’d been a big boy back then, and he’d known exactly what he was doing. Holding it against her would just make him look like an ass.

Scott returns his attention to his Aunt, who looks like she’s about to tell Steve what he can do with his camera. He sighs and makes his way down there. Parents and kids from the club were starting to arrive for rehearsals and he didn’t want a scene. By the time he’s hopped awkwardly from the sound booth down the stairs, Tessa has walked over – presumably, like him, to prevent some form of disaster.

She smiles – somewhat shyly – at him and he wonders if she too, was a little lost in memory.

“Is there a problem?” Scott asks, directing his question at Carol and Steve.

“Yes,” Carol says. “This… _imp_ is trying to wrestle half a ton of equipment into the club.”

Scott glances away, catching Tessa’s eye. He’s damn sure he just missed another smile.

“I’m just trying to do my job, ma’am,” Steve says, with a huff, his brow starting to sweat under the weight of his kit. “Your _town_ _selectman_ said we would have unrestricted access to whatever we needed.”

“ _Well_ ,” Carol Moir says, huffing right back. “There is _no_ town selectman here, so if you _want_ inside, you’re going to have to get through _me_ first.”

“Hey,” Scott says, gently, putting his hands on his Aunt’s shoulders. “I’ve got this.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he replies. “Why don’t you head on over and help the kids.”

Carol shuffles off, lowering her gaze one last time as she does so.

Steve turns toward him in relief.

“Thank you,” he says. “Now where can I set this up?”

Scott raises his eyebrows.

“Actually, club rules state that you have to clear any filming prior to the event with the club manager,” he says.

Steve looks at Tessa, his mouth a gaping maw.

Tessa presses her lips together tightly, presumably to hide another smile.

“Did you know about this?” Steve asks, irritably.

“I might have had an inkling,” she replies, not daring to look at Scott.

He’s pretty sure it’s because any direct eye contact at this point would result in laughter.

Steve dumps the equipment on the mats, clearly fed up of holding it.

“Well then, _you’re_ a native, _you_ can sort it out with the manager.”

Tessa sighs and turns to Scott.

“Could I speak with the manager please?” she says, sweetly.

Scott looks back at her, an expression of pure innocence on his face.

“You are,” he replies.

Tessa’s eyebrows bounce in surprise.

“Oh,” she says.

“Oh?” he replies.

“Um…”

“Was there something you wanted to ask me?”

“Yes, I… uh… you’re the _manager_?” she says.

“Uh huh. Owner too,” he says, with a smile that’s lightly teasing. “Also run the skate shop next door.”

“Oh,” she says.

“Oh?” he replies.

“Um…”

“Was that what you wanted to ask me?”

He can feel her mind working, knows it was probably a little mean to throw that in there, and he decides to give her a minute to find her head again. He turns back to Steve, only to find a phone between his tree-stump-sized hands, recording their interaction.

“Steve,” Tessa says.

“Oh, thank God!” Maddy cries, pulling the hat off her head and unwrapping the scarf from around her neck. “It’s warmer in here than it is out there. I feel like Jack Frost caught hold of my nipples!”

Scott, Tessa, and Steve stare at her, the phone in the latter’s hand now directing its attention toward the new arrival.

Maddy looks to the phone, then Steve, and finally to Scott and Tessa.

“ _Do_ we have a problem?” she says.

“Why yes, Maddy, we do,” Scott replies, genially. “See, Steve here is trying to cart all of this stuff inside, but we have rules at the club and one of them is that any filming needs to be cleared ahead of time. Skaters need to know if they’ll be on camera and parents need to sign consent for their children to be filmed.”

Maddy scratches at the corner of her eye and Scott’s pretty certain it’s because she hates dealing with legalities.

“Is there a – um – way we could side-step this process?” she asks, and Scott has to smile at the sweetness to her tone.

“Not really,” he replies.

“Okay,” she says. “Then, is there a way we could… speed it up?”

“Perhaps,” he says. “If someone asks nicely.”

Maddy turns to Tessa.

“Virtue, let me put it to you this way,” she says. “I am not leaving this building until I get a cup of coffee and the feeling returns to my extremities. Please use those doe eyes of yours and flirt with the man so I can get out of here at a reasonable hour and Face Time my wife before she forgets what I look like.”

Tessa swings her body toward Scott and he’s momentarily distracted by the slight flush to her cheeks.

“Scott?” she says.

“Tess?”

“We would very much like to film some skating today and perhaps do some pre-coverage for the carnival,” she says, softly. “Would that be okay?”

“Hm, I don’t know,” Scott replies. “I’ll have to clear it with the manager.”

Tessa makes a face at him and he can’t help but laugh.

“ _Buuut_ , I know the guy pretty well and I think I could convince him,” he adds.

Tessa knocks her skate against his.

“Thank you,” she says.

“You’re welcome,” he replies.

* * *

 

It’s strange – and surreal – being back on the ice with him.

Granted he’s way over there working with a troupe of young skaters who just can’t seem to go dashing through the snow without tripping up the reindeer in front of them, and she’s over here helping a novice pair rehearse their steps.

She doesn’t mind helping out, she’s performed in this very carnival many times herself, and being roped in the way she had seemed inevitable given both the presence of the cameras and the hoard of tiny people clamoring for Scott’s attention. Sure, there are other coaches about, but Scott is clearly a favourite and every kid on the ice wants a chance to show him their routines. He looked a little mobbed at one point, until he alerted them to the fact that Tessa was there. She was surprised – and more than a little touched – that they were all so excited to see her, although she supposes she’s a name that’s difficult to escape ‘round these parts when her picture is up on every wall.

She gives her pair a few more pointers to tighten up their footwork before skating off to the boards and giving a thumbs up to Carol, who’s surrounded by lists – presumably to do with costumes and music – and looking a little flustered. Alma Moir shuffles along the row of seats just then, collapsing alongside her twin – although leaving one seat between them due to the growing mountain of paper. She waves at Tess who gives her a smile and Tessa sees Carol lean over and point to something on the clipboard she’s holding. Alma nods and gives Tessa a thumbs up in reply.

Tessa sighs and braces herself once more. Every time this team’s music plays, Scott looks up and over, and Tessa swears she can hear him laughing. She thinks it’s no coincidence he asked her to look over a dance to _‘I wish it could be Christmas every day’_.

The music begins, and Tessa looks back over her shoulder to catch his reaction. He snaps his head back quickly when he realises he’s been caught out, but the sudden movement has him overcompensating for balance - so he doesn’t fall forward on eight reindeer and a Santa - and he winds up on his ass with his feet up in the air.

The kids in the rink start giggling, and Scott throws his hands up with a grin on his face.

Tessa laughs.

“Is _that_ how they do it at the Olympics?” she says.

He wags a finger at her.

“Sometimes, eh,” he replies.

She rolls her eyes and returns her attention to her own skaters – although she shoots a few glances back at him every now and again only to find his lips still twitching.

“You seemed to be concentrating very hard on those bob tails,” Tessa says, dryly, when he joins her ten minutes later.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he says, his smile suggesting otherwise.

“You know _exactly_ what I’m talking about, _Mister_ ,” she says, lightly, glancing at him out the corner of her eyes.

“I was just…”

“Watching to see how I’d cope with the irony?”

Scott puts a hand to his chest in mock offense.

“I would _never_ ,” he says.

“Oh, _please_ , nobody is _that_ interested in Rudolph.”

His laughter comes out in a series of high-pitched barks, and she can tell he’s genuinely amused.

The camera is hovering somewhere to the right of her and she’s certain it’s caught the entire exchange. Scott casts a glance over his shoulder, confirming her thoughts and on a whim, he takes her by the elbow and leads her away, out onto the ice.

Most of the kids are taking a break or having costumes adjusted and Tessa feels weirdly vulnerable without them. It’s silly, I mean, it’s just Scott. A guy she’s known since she was six, skated with since seven, won the _Olympics_ with for crying out loud! There’s no real reason for her to feel nervous around him.

They’d been taking digs at one another since they were teens - off ice, of course, and away from their coaches – but somewhere along the way, that banter had become a comfort, securing a force field around them both, offering protection against the harsh realities of their sport. It was that same innate _tête_  á _tête between them that had ultimately dismantled her relationship with Christopher, but she’d always felt that loss more for Scott than for herself. He’d been_ _his_ _friend first, and Tessa had always thought she was somewhat responsible for getting in the way of that._

_It had always been a little confusing having two men in her life._

“You got something on your mind there?” Scott says, pulling her right out of her thoughts.

“Mm?”

She looks up at him, a little startled by his proximity as he pulls her casually from their side-by-side strokes to the beginning of a circuit. She falls easily – a little too easily, if she’s honest – into the dance hold, and the years melt away into familiar pattern.

“Something on your mind?” he repeats, his fingers closing over hers.

Tessa wrinkles her nose at him, attempting a smile that she hopes will convince him she’s fine.

Scott cocks his head, eyes flitting briefly to the camera and she feels his other hand tighten around her waist, protectively. She’s not even sure he’s aware of it, as he folds her into his space, but she’s also not about to point it out to him – especially with the cameras running.

“You’re a little rusty,” he murmurs, when she stumbles a little in their circular step sequence.

Tessa lowers her eyes at him.

“Well, I wasn’t expecting to have to produce level fours on my one foot turns my first time out,” she says, giving him a look.

He raises an eyebrow at her.

“How long’s it been?” he says, pushing her out and then latching onto her arm so that she can move into her bracket, before leading her into a counter.

Tessa bites her lip, grateful she’s moving.

“You know how long,” she replies.

“Rocker,” he says, quietly and she moves into it, exiting on a back inside edge.

“Double twizzle,” she replies, and she rotates quickly in his arms, Scott spread-eagling alongside her, before they stroke out onto the ice once more.

“Nice,” he says.

She whacks him gently on the arm.

“I was being sincere!” he says, with a laugh.

She screws her face up again and darts away from him.

“Hey, come here!” he says, and she giggles in reply.

He catches up to her pretty easily. Scott’s always been fast, and he spends more time on the ice lately than she does.

“I’m gonna lift you,” he says, taking hold of her hand and giving it a gentle pull towards him.

“Scott,” she says. “That is not a good _i-deaaaaa_!”

She’s up in the air before she can finish her sentence, somehow having enough forethought to lift herself and not leave him to do all the work. His arm is under her thigh as she spins, her other leg still hanging below.

He’s laughing to himself, continuing to rotate, with her in his arms.

“What are you _doing_?!” she says.

“You ready? We’re gonna go up now,” Scott says.

“You’re going to _throw_ up if you’re not careful!”

But she goes with him, instinctively responding to the way he throws her leg up over his shoulder, completing the rotation with what she hopes had some measure of elegance, before her foot finds the ice once more.

Somewhere in the stands, people are clapping, and Tessa looks over to find Alma banging her hands together with glee. Scott does a little bow and his mother shoos him with her hand, pointing back to Tessa and clapping once more.

Tessa turns to Scott and grins, and it’s now Scott’s turn to wrinkle his nose at her.

“What are you gonna do, eh?” he says, looking directly into the camera and skating past it with his arms raised in the air. He does another circular spread eagle before coming to a stop in front of it. “She’s trying to show me up.”

“Well, _maybe_ , if you weren’t trying so hard to get _me_ to fall on my butt, I wouldn’t have the _need_ ,” she says.

Scott looks back at the camera.

“I had _this_ for seventeen years,” he says, shaking his head. “One time, she ate my waffles when I went to the bathroom. When I came back, she claimed I’d never had any waffles to begin with.”

Tessa’s eyes bulge and she whacks him a little harder this time.

“That was _you_!”

Scott grins.

“Oh yeah,” he says. “That _was_ me. But I’ll be keeping my eye out for her at the Winter Wonderland tomorrow - just in case she's still looking to get back at me for that one. They have the greatest chestnuts though – roasted on an open fire if you can believe it, eh?”

“And if you’re not _careful_ ,” Tessa says. “They aren’t the _only_ nuts that will get roasted this year.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up next: The Winter Wonderland fair is in full-swing and while Tessa just wants to do her job and get the best coverage for the following day's segment, Scott just seems to be able to show up at the most inopportune of moments.


	6. Oh Come All Ye Skaters

“Hi, I’m Tessa Virtue -”

“ _Hey_ and I’m Scott Moir!”

Tessa lowers the microphone a little and rolls her eyes.

Scott had leapt up in front of her (and the camera), stretching one leg to the side and waving his arms out in the air.

“What are you _doing_?” she says.

“Hijacking your show,” he replies, digging a half-eaten cookie out of his pants pocket and taking a bite.

“Is that… from the eat-athon?” Tessa says, pulling a face.

Scott exams the cookie with interest, and nods.

“How long has that been in there?” she says, shooting a glance at his thigh.

Scott takes another bite of what used to be a frosted snowman, and grins.

“You want some?” he says.

“ _Noooo_ thanks,” she says.

Scott looks back at the camera.

“She doesn’t like my cookie.”

Tessa pulls him by the shoulder so that he’s standing alongside her.

“It’s not… the _cookie_ that’s the problem,” she says.

“She doesn’t want my cookie,” he says, with a pout.

Tessa gives a small huff, sending a lock of hair flying.

“Maybe something else?” he says, patting himself down. “I think I had a perogy somewhere…”

“I’m good,” Tessa says, holding her palm up in front of his chest.

“Do you wanna jingle my bells?” he says, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Your… what?” she says, in alarm.

Tessa can see Maddy laughing a few feet away.

“My bells,” Scott says, producing a small set of sleigh bells from his jacket. “Do you wanna _jingle_ them?”

“Do you wanna get your _own_ show?” she replies.

“Yeah, I’m not sure that would work, see?” he says. “They tried to get me to commentate once. Great face, they said, bad energy.”

“Is that because you’re powered by bunnies?” she says.

Scott laughs, his hand dropping down to meet Tessa’s.

She blinks at the sudden contact as his palm briefly closes over her fingers.

“Isn’t she great?” he says. “So quick with the comebacks. Where’d you learn to be so fast?”

“Oh, well, y’know Scott, I _had_ to be fast,” she says, smiling sweetly. “To keep up with _you_.”

Scott looks at the camera again.

“We were a little competitive when we were younger,” he says.

Tessa lowers her thumb and forefinger near enough together. Scott points his finger at hers.

“Is that in reference to my bells?”

“Oh my g-”

Tessa wrinkles her nose and aims a pinch at his side.

“Hey!” he says, dancing out of her way. “What would Santa think?”

Tessa raises an eyebrow.

“ _Santa_ is busy prepping to sit in a chair all day and talk to kids,” she says.

“You have a point there, Virtch,” he says. “It’s not easy being the big guy. He must do a _ton_ of paperwork.”

Tessa gives him a smile.

“Not to mention _homework_ ,” Tessa says. “He has to get all those gifts just right.”

“I’d be a terrible Santa,” he says.

“How so?”

“Well… I was never any good at homework.”

Tessa tries to hide a smile.

“I remember,” she says, peeking up at him through her lashes.

Scott chucks his thumb at her.

“I used to copy some of hers,” he says. “Fortunately for _me_ , I don’t think Santa found out.”

“We could always tell him today?” she says.

“Yeah,” he replies, tucking his arm in hers. “I think I’m going to have to accompany you to Winter Wonderland… y’know… just to keep an eye on you.”

“Mm hm,” Tessa says, allowing herself to be led by him as they walk the distance up Main Street.

“ _And_ to warn whoever’s in charge of the Bumper Cars that he may have to use his right to refuse service sign.”

She uses her free hand to smack him lightly on the chest and he laughs, grabbing hold of it and pulling her into him in a twirl, before releasing her back out again.

“So, Tess,” he says, sending an impish grin over his shoulder towards the camera. “What are you going to ask Santa for this year?”

She turns her head to look at him.

“An hour of peace,” she replies.

“Ooh,” he says. “I think you have to have been a _really_ good girl to get that one. Have you been a good girl?”

“Well I don’t know, Scott, that depends,” she replies.

“On what?” he says.

“On whether or not Santa’s seen _Carmen_.”

* * *

  
“Every year, people travel from all over the area to share in the experience that is Mistleton’s Winter Wonderland. It runs from mid-December, for twelve days, right up until Christmas Eve and there really is something for everyone. As a kid, I couldn’t resist the outdoor skating rink – which shouldn’t come as a surprise! And there is nothing more beautiful than skating out beneath the stars with those you love.  Join us today as we explore the fair and talk to visitors from near, far, and wide, about what makes Mistleton so special this time of year and how you can take a little bit of the town home with you this Christmas.”

“And cut,” Maddy says. “Okay, Steve. Go shoot some B-roll.”

Steve lowers the camera a little and raises his eyebrows.

“Seriously?” he says.

Maddy gives him a ‘why are you still here?’-type look.

“Yes, I’ve got the hand-held,” she says. “Scram!”

Steve trudges off into the midst of the fair while Maddy and Tessa watch him go.

“I don’t think he liked that,” Tessa says.

Maddy shrugs.

“I just needed to get rid of him for a while.”

“Why?” Tessa asks.

“No reason,” Maddy says.

“ _Mads_.”

Maddy turns suddenly on the balls of her feet.

“So – uh – you wanna tell me what all _that_ was about?” she says.

“What _what_ was about?”

Maddy folds her arms across her chest.

“You. Moir. Jingling his bells.”

Tessa holds her finger in the air.

“Okay,” she laughs. “There was _no_ jingling.”

“Okay, but there’s gonna be jingling later, right?”

“Maddy!”

“There was definitely jingling in the past.”

“Oh my God!” Tessa says, pulling her friend away from a group of people trying to get by.

Maddy raises her palms in the air.

“Just calling it how I see it,” she says.

“Well you’re calling it _wrong_ ,” Tessa replies.

“So, you’re telling me you and skaterboy never…”

Maddy knocks the tips of both her forefingers against each another and Tessa’s eyes go wide.

“I am not… we are not… okay, I am going to go over _there_ now and sample some mulled wine,” Tessa says. “In case you care to join me.”

“Oh sure,” Maddy says. “Gotta loosen you up a little if I’m going to get the full story.”

“There’s _no_ story!”

“There’s _always_ a story.”

“You’re crazy,” Tessa says, turning on the spot and spreading her arms wide before heading on toward the stall.

“But I’m _not_ wrong!” she says, walking three steps behind Tessa.

“Yes, you _are_!” Tessa sings.

Maddy laughs.

“Alright, alright!” she says. “You win.”

They take a cup each of the warm, spicy drink.

“Mm, that’s good,” Maddy says.

“It is,” Tessa says.

“So,” Maddy says. “You ever get over him?”

Tessa rolls her eyes.

“You got… _under_ him?”

“Maddy!” Tessa says, turning away from her producer and heading up the path.

“You don’t have to tell me!” Maddy says. “Just… blink once for ‘yes’.”

Tessa waves a hand in the air, continuing to walk away from her.

Maddy grins.

“Not gonna answer that one, huh?”

“Not even a little bit!”

* * *

 

Scott rubs a hand through the back of his hair causing it to stick up in a half dozen different directions. He’d had to duck out earlier for a run-through with some of the junior skaters but he’s back at the fair now, having carted a few more crates of rental skates with him.

The fair is busy this afternoon, and word has spread to neighbouring towns that there’s a film crew on site. He’s not saying there’s a direct correlation – the fair is always popular – but there does seem to be a lot of excitement in the air. Even his teams looked a little antsy to get out of there, so they could track down the cameras and maybe get themselves on TV.

Dumping the final crate of skates at the booth, Scott leans over the temporary boards and takes in the sight of the ice before him.

“Is that smile for anything in particular, Cuz, or… any _one_?”

Scott lowers his gaze at Cara as she joins him.

“I was just… admiring the space,” he says.

“Scott, it’s ice,” Cara says. “You spend ninety-nine percent of the year, _on_ it.”

“Yeah, but not out here with the sky and the trees,” Scott says. “And the freshly fallen snow.”

Cara laughs, warmly.

“You’re such a soft soul,” she says.

“Uh – no – not soft,” Scott says. “Maybe I just appreciate… beauty.”

Cara gives him a look and hands over the keys to the cash box.

“Speaking of beauty,” Cara says. “How’s Tessa?”

“Oh, would you look at the time,” Scott says, checking his watch. “Don’t you have to go, aren’t you baby-sitting tonight?”

“Look at you, deflecting like a pro,” she says, patting him on the arm.

“I’m not deflecting,” he says. “I just…”

“What?” Cara says. “Can’t tell me how Tessa is even though you were spotted entering the fair walking arm-in-arm this morning?”

Scott raises a finger in the air.

“That… is not… how did you?”

“I have my spies,” she says.

Scott busies himself organising the skates by size in order to avoid looking at her. Plenty of the townsfolk owned their own skates, but the influx of outsiders this time of the year, meant rentals were always needed. And even locals visiting the fair, didn’t always bring their skates in tow.

“Scott?”

“Yeah?”

“You. Tess. _Together_.”

“We weren’t…”

He pauses and smiles at the family walking towards the booth.

“Four?” he says.

“Yes, please.”

Cara helps him find four sets of skates and they wave the young family through.

“Have a great time,” Scott says.

He turns to find Cara looking at him with her arms folded.

“So?” she says.

“So?” he says.

“ _Together?_ ”

“I was just… showing her the way,” he says.

“Because Tessa is so unfamiliar with Mistelton?” Cara says, arching an eyebrow.

Scott gives her the stink-eye.

“Well… y’know… there are _elves_ here today,” he says. “I just wanted to give her fair warning in case the sight of stripy socks and bell-topped hats freak her out.”

It’s Cara’s turn to give him a look.

“Yeah… keep on making fun,” she says. “See how far that gets you.”

Scott raises his hands in the air.

“Whoa, what?”

“Scott, some stranger on national television decides it’s okay to go around _forcing_ his ideals on everyone, _criticizing_ someone for not sharing them, and then forces Tess into a situation where _she_ – and not he – has to apologise.”

Scott gapes at her.

“And not just to _him_ ,” she continues. “But to the whole goddamn country.”

“I – uh – I hadn’t thought of it that way,” Scott says. “We were just… I don’t know… being us. It felt like… old times, I guess.”

“I’m sure it did,” Cara says, “and I’m sure that it’s easy for the two of you to fall back into that… place.”

Scott rubs his nose with the back of his hand to mask any expression he might be revealing.

“Look,” she says. “I know it’s been a long time. I know it must be… weird. And I know that we’re all pretty used to watching her from the sofa now that it’s easy to forget she exists beyond that but - ”

She puts a hand on his shoulder.

“But try not to forget that she’s also a human being, and that it can’t be easy for her to be back here with a camera tracking her every move.”

Scott looks up into the darkening sky, blowing air out of his mouth.

“I’m not saying don’t be _you_ guys,” Cara says. “I’m just saying… don’t cross a line that could really hurt her.”

Scott shoves his hands into his pockets and nods.

“We were all there, Scott,” she says. “And you more than anyone knows what it was like for her.”

He nods again, feeling a tightening in his chest he’s pretty sure has nothing to do with the hog roast sandwich he’d wolfed down on the way in. She was here, again, in Mistleton and he feels as if the four years between her leaving and her return was a period set apart from time, as if the day she left, he’d stuck a cork in the bottle. Sure, life had carried on. He owned a successful business, he was a well sought-after coach – he himself wasn’t in any way “stuck”. But the bottle held something else, something he’d denied since they were kids, something he’d continued to deny the Winter before Vancouver, and something he’d fought against all the years leading up to Sochi. And when she left, when he could still taste the warmth of her lips on his, he’d plugged that release, keeping that moment trapped in time for both his sake, and hers.

But now she was here, the cork released, and Scott was powerless to do anything about it.

* * *

 

“And what’s _your_ name?”

“Gracie.”

“Nice to meet you, Gracie. What would you like for Christmas this year?”

“A puppy.”

“A puppy!”

Tessa watches the Grotto Santa, cast a quick glance at the little girl’s parents, who give a small nod in reply.

“Well, Gracie,” Santa says. “A puppy is a _very_ big responsibility. They need _lots_ of love and _walks_ everyday, and you’ll need to be able to feed them and clean up after them. Do you think you can do that?”

“Yes, Santa, I can!”

“Well, alright then, I’ll talk to my elves and see what I can do.”

Tessa smiles as the girl hops down from Santa’s knee and runs back towards her parents, obviously beaming.

“Santa” waves her over and Tessa steps over the rope, making her way through the faux snow with a microphone in her hand.  He pats his knee and Tessa laughs, giving a little shrug before she sits down.

“My, my, my, those are _some_ heels on your boots there,” he says.

She laughs again, stretching one leg out in front of her and examining her black knee-highs.

“Well, Santa, you should try it sometime,” she says.

“I just might!” he replies.

“So, what’s your name, young lady?”

“My name is Tessa,” she replies, knowing full-well that the guy beneath the suit also knew exactly who she was.

It would probably be inappropriate to ask for some waffles right now.

“And Tessa, what have you been up to at the fair today?”

“Well, Santa,” she says. “We have been visiting stalls, talking to the town, and even talking with those who’ve travelled to Mistleton today, to find out what makes this place so special. In fact, we’ve just come from the Giftmas Hut and I have to say, it’s wonderful to see so many people spreading kindness and being so willing to help out and give to others.”

“Ah, yes,” Santa says. “Giftmas is a very special tradition indeed.”

“For those of you who don’t know,” Tessa says to the camera. “Giftmas is where you can donate items of food, toys, or a little bit of something you feel could bring joy to someone this Christmas. Mistleton has always believed in giving back and this time of year, the town runs a big drive to help people who are struggling. The community visits shelters and homes where people don’t have as much. Many of the town’s children visit nearby care homes and sing carols with the elderly. It teaches them about kindness, about sharing, and about appreciating what we have.”

“Couldn’t have said it better myself, Tessa!” Santa says. “That really deserves a HO! HO! HO!”

“Well, it’s important for our viewers to understand that whilst everybody here loves the festivities in Mistleton,” she says. “That they’re aware we also need to help those less fortunate than ourselves.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” the Santa replies. “And we’re especially glad you’re here to help us spread this joy across the country.”

Tessa smiles.

“I’m happy to.”

“So, Tessa,” Santa says. “What would _you_ like for Christmas this year?”

Tessa thinks for a second and glances up, out beyond the rope. She finds Scott staring back at her. There’s a small smile on his lips and something in his eyes that she can’t quite make out, but he’s looking at her like… like what?

It’s no different from the thousands of times he’s looked at her before, when he’s held her in his arms and they’ve moved across the ice, and yet… it is.

She smiles back at him, unable to help herself, his eyes drawing her deeper into him.

Tessa feels the rest of the world melting away, feels herself walking towards him, stepping over the barrier between them before wrapping her arms around his neck and –

“ _Tessa?_ ”

She blinks, her senses suddenly reminding her that she’s sitting in a warming hut on Santa Claus’s lap, surrounded by hoards of people, a camera crew, and staring at a man who’s rendered her temporarily speechless.

“Something you’d like for Christmas?” Santa says, giving a knowing glance towards Scott.

“I – um – I can’t think of anything right now,” she says.

“Can’t you?” Santa replies.

She tries not to look at Scott, but her eyes find him anyway, before she has the good sense to look away.

“I don’t know,” she says. “Some new skates would be nice.”

Out the corner of her eye, she sees Scott hold up a pair of figure skates, the laces hanging by his fingers, that same small smile on his face.

“Well,” the Santa Claus says. “I guess we all know where you’ll be headed next!”

Tessa rolls her eyes and heads over towards Scott, keeping the rope divider firmly between them.

“How did you?”

Scott grins.

“I have magical powers.”

She gives him a wry look.

“Okay,” he says. “So, these are actually for one of the ladies at stall twenty-six, Paul just finished sharpening them and asked if I’d drop them by.”

“And you were being neighbourly,” Tessa says.

“I was,” he says.

Tessa nods, aware that either Steve’s camera, or Maddy’s was possibly still recording.

“So, what do you say, Virtch?” he says.

“About what?” she says.

“You wanna go skating with me?”

She can hardly say no, not with so many eyes and ears close by, but equally, she finds she doesn’t want to.

“Okay,” she says.

“Okay?” he says.

“Okay,” she says.

She steps over the rope, heading out of the hut and onto the path. Tessa watches as he drops the skates off at the stall, before he bounces back to her.

“Mind your step, it’s getting a little slippery out here,” he says.

“Thank you,” she replies.

“Do they – uh – have to follow you everywhere?” he asks, waving his hand over his shoulder at the accompanying crew.

“Hazard of the job,” she replies.

“What are they hoping to catch?”

“I don’t know,” Tessa says, doing her best to ignore the fact that Steve has somehow overtaken them so that he can capture them head on. “Something good, I guess.”

“Nah,” he says, with a wink. “Probably waiting for you to fall on your face.”

“That’s a very real possibility,” she says, with a laugh.

“I can’t imagine anybody is that interested in two people _walking_ ,” he says, pointedly, staring at the camera. “Hey, Tess, wanna spice it up for them?”

“How do you suggest we do that?” she says.

“I could… tell them about the time I snuck out of the house during the middle of the night to meet the guys down by the creek?” he says.

“I don’t think they want to hear that story.”

“So, I sneak out of the house…”

Tessa sighs.

“In the middle of the night,” he says. “And it’s like… ten below. But I lock myself out.”

“Because sixteen-year-old boys haven’t yet mastered the art of using house keys,” Tessa says.

Scott nods.

“I wasn’t really a _look before you leap_ kind of guy,” he says.

“Well, maybe off the ice,” Tessa says. “On ice, you were always very careful.”

“That’s because _you_ were there, and I didn’t want to hurt you,” he replies.

“Aw,” she says, affectionately.

Scott smiles, and then turns his head back to the camera.

“So, I take off my pants.”

Tessa groans.

“As we _all_ do when it’s below freezing outside,” she says.

“Because I think, if I climb up the porch, I can use them like lasso and hook them onto my window.”

“A solid plan.”

“And _then_ I can just shimmy up the wall and climb on through,” he says. “But it doesn’t work.”

“Shocking,” Tessa says.

“And I’m standing there with two choices,” he says. “Either, I could knock on the front door and wake up my parents – a fate for which there would surely be consequences.”

Tessa sighs again.

“Or, I could walk to the house of the one person, not in my immediate family, who I knew would have a set of keys to get in.”

“If you think you know where this story is going, raise your hand,” Tessa says, with one arm already in the air.

“So, I tug on my pants – because they’re now caught on the window ledge – I lose my balance and in steadying myself, I drop them… right into this puddle of ice-water on the grass. So, _now_ I’m faced with _another_ choice.”

“Life is so hard sometimes,” Tessa says.

“Either, I put the pants back on and freeze to death, or I run down the street without ‘em.”

“You forgot to mention the part where they were actually jogging bottoms and you didn’t have anything _on_ underneath them,” Tessa says.

Scott points a finger at her.

“You’re right,” he says. “I missed that part out, should I start again?”

“Please don’t,” she says.

“Okay, so I’m running down the street in the middle of the night with a pair of wet pants, and – well – you can imagine.”

“I’m trying not to.”

“And I get to Tessa’s house,” he says. “And I climb up to her window and start knocking on the glass. I know she must be asleep so I’m knocking for like seven minutes and eventually she comes to the window, looks outside, and opens it up. And there’s me, standing there. And she just _looks_ at me - like it’s a perfectly normal thing to find your skating partner standing there in nothing but a sweater and some runners – and she just… _rolls_ her eyes and _walks_ away.”

Tessa shakes her head at the memory, but there’s a smile on her face that’s mirroring Scott’s.

“I mean, I was standing right there,” he says, waving his hand down the length of his body. “You _could_ have had… a piece of _this_.”

“Yes,” Tessa says. “Just what every fourteen-year-old girl wants – a half naked boy shivering on her doorstep.”

“Uh – factually incorrect,” he says. “Window ledge.”

“My mistake,” she says, dryly.

“She gets me the keys in the end – and a pair of pants belonging to her brother – and then just… closes the window on me, turns out the light and goes _back_ to sleep. Doesn’t mention it ever again. First time she’s seen me naked and she says… _nothing_.”

Tessa snaps her head towards him, her eyes wide.

“Uh,” he says. “Not _first_ , I didn’t mean first, I just meant… hey, you know what we could do?”

“No, what?” Tessa says, desperately ignoring the gasp of glee from her producer who is still trailing them.

“There’s a Nativity scene in the square,” he says. “You wanna hop the fence and steal baby Jesus?”

“If you don’t stop talking, Scott, you’re going to be _seeing_ Jesus really soon,” she replies.

Scott chuckles to himself, walking one step behind her, his hand against her back to help guide her through the sudden throng of people walking in the other direction. Tessa – for her part – tries not to think about the way he steps into her, as he tries to avoid others in their path, or the way it feels when his hand brushes just between her shoulder blades. He shouldn’t affect her like this. The necessity – and sometimes hilarity – of touching one another had been ingrained into them at such a young age and yet… here she was, feeling a weakness in her knees that is so unlike her.

“Mind the ice,” he says.

“What ice?” she says, turning a little to see where he was pointing to.

“ _That_ ice!”

She steps back, and he grabs her, but her boots are already slipping, sliding out from under her. He holds on, and in her panic, she reaches out to steady herself, her fists finding leverage in his jacket. Scott is too off balance to avoid the fall, and he pulls her toward him, rolling his body so that he hits the ground first, as Tessa lands on top of him.

Scott winces against the hard surface, the impact still sending signals up his spin, but he lifts his head up anyway to check on Tessa. Pushing herself up by one arm, Tessa gives him a somewhat sheepish smile.

“Oh, _that_ ice,” she says.

Scott grins, glancing down at their tangled limbs.

“You did that on purpose,” he says.

She pats him gently on the chest.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” she replies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I reach the half-way point here, I just wanted to say thank you to those who have been able to leave a comment. I know that not everyone wants to read Christmas fic, and I have certainly doubted doing this one pretty much every step of the way. I'm really grateful to have had that bit of support, so thank you ♥
> 
> With that said, I will take a day's break to catch up with myself and be back a little later in the week.  
> Coming up: It's a trip down memory lane for Tessa and Scott as the pair reminisce about old times, igniting old flames that had long been extinguished...


	7. Good Twizzles We Bring

“So, how is it that you can make it look so natural?” Maddy says.

She’s standing on the ice in her skates, pointing the small hand-held camera at Tessa and Scott.

“I don’t know,” Scott says, pointing at Tessa. “I guess when you’ve known each other a long time and I mean… we skated with each other for seventeen years, so…”

“I guess for us, it’s a little like riding a bike,” Tessa says.

“Except that instead of a bike, we’ve got knives on our feet,” Scott says.

“But still,” Maddy says. “I mean, it’s been – what - four years since you last skated together?”

Tessa looks at Scott.

“Yeah, about four and a half, really,” she says.

He nods.

“Okay,” Maddy says. “So, I mean, I could probably get on a bike and ride no problem but how can you guys get out here tonight and just… how does that rhythm come back so naturally?”

“Does it?” Tessa says, checking in with Scott again.

“I mean, I’m watching you guys here and it’s… it’s effortless.”

“Well…”

“Well…”

Tessa and Scott laugh.

“You even speak as one person now!” Maddy says, laughing along with them.

“I guess for us, we just… trust our training,” Tessa says.

“It looks amazing and you read each other so well, I mean those…”

Maddy twirls her finger ‘round and ‘round.

“… what did you call them?”

“Twizzles?”

“Yes!” Maddy says. “Those twizzles were fabulous.”

Tessa raises her arms out to the side.

“Well," she says, with a laugh. "Good twizzles we bring!”

"Dammit, why did I not think of that one?" Scott says, giving Tessa a high-five.

“I mean, there’s not a foot wrong,” Maddy says.

Scott laughs.

“What’s so funny?” Tessa says.

He puts a hand up to create a barrier between their faces.

“Oh, I’m probably going to get a two-page document on all the improvements we need to make, by 8 am tomorrow,” he says.

Tessa gasps.

“Oh, no! You did _not_ just say that!”

Scott shrugs.

“ _Tell_ me I’m wrong,” he says. “Tell me you _haven’t_ already asked my mother for my email address.”

“Moir, your email hasn’t changed since 2006,” she says, elbowing him in the side and making him squirm.

“Hey, did you see that?” he says, pushing backwards a little and building up some speed. “When our mothers ask, tell them she definitely started it.”

He skates right up behind her, puts his hands on her shoulders and leaps. Tessa laughs and rolls her eyes as his legs hook around her thighs.

“Do you see what I had to put up with?” she says.

He drops down, but keeps his hands where they are, resting his chin down in the space between his fingers and her neck.

“See,” Maddy says. “Now _I_ would have fallen on my ass there.”

Tessa turns her head to look at him, her nose just millimeters from his own. They’re both a little flushed – by the cold and by their proximity.

“I guess it’s a muscle memory thing,” Tessa says, turning back to Maddy and the camera.

“Yeah, I mean we’d be on the ice four to five hours a day, five days a week,” Scott says. “Then six days a week, we’d be in the gym a couple of hours.”

“It’s a lot of time to spend together.”

“She says with heavy sigh,” Scott replies.

Tessa nudges his chin with her shoulder and breaks free of the hold.

“What sigh?” she says, turning to face him and swatting his chest with her hand.

“There was a sigh!” he says. “ _I_ heard it. _Maddy_ , you heard it, right?”

“Do not try to charm her, Mister,” Tessa says, with a laugh. “There was no sigh and you know it!”

“Mm,” Scott says, looking back at Maddy. “And I’m going to have a _twelve-page_ email about this tomorrow.”

“As if you _actually_ check your emails,” Tessa says. “Why do you think I had a key to your _house_?”

“I should probably get that back from you, eh?” he says. “I’ve got private stuff in there.”

“Where?”

“In my old room,” he says. “I don’t want you sneaking in there.”

“Yeah, Scott… trust me, _nobody_ wants to go in there.”

“ _What_? That room is legend!”

Tessa snorts

“I’ll tell you about it later, Maddy,” he says, raising his hand to the side of his mouth, conspiratorially.

“Scott, Maddy doesn’t want to know what you keep in the back of your closet or underneath your floorboards.”

“Hey,” he says. “How’d you know about the floorboard?”

“Uh… I didn’t until just now,” she says.

“What did you see?”

“Nothing!”

“Because I’ll have you know that those things were there before we moved in.”

“Your family have lived in that house all your life,” she says, pointedly.

Scott puts a finger in the air, his eyes staring upward.

Tessa looks at the camera.

“Please stand by, we seem to be receiving some _moir_ technical difficulties here,” she says.

Scott twizzles on one foot and breaks out into a grin.

“You didn’t see anything,” he says, his finger beginning to wag.

Tessa smiles airily.

“Well, I guess you’ll never know,” she replies.

“There seems to be a lot of history between you two,” Maddy says. “Have you always been able to bounce off each other like this?”

Tessa looks to Scott again.

“I guess,” Scott nods. “Y’know, we had to spend so much time together and we know that it sometimes meant other people didn’t quite… get us? It was hard to balance our lives outside of skating really, because we invested so much of our time and energy in each other. We know that wasn’t always easy for the other people in our lives.”

“You mean in terms of relationships?” Maddy asks.

Scott nods.

“And friendships,” he says. “I mean, Tess and I didn’t always see eye-to-eye, and being a teenager and going through puberty is hard enough and in ice dance, you’re in each other’s space all the time and there was always a lot to work out.”

“But I think we got that balance right later,” Tessa says. “When we were working towards our second Olympics. There was a lot of doubt there and uncertainty and we didn’t always…”

She pauses to look at him, and he gives her a nod.

“We didn’t always feel supported by our coaches,” she finishes.

“And we really learnt to rely on each other,” Scott says.

“Absolutely,” Tessa says. “I was there for him and he was there for me - which is ironic seeing as we spent most of our teenage years trying to get rid of each other!”

“Do you remember the time you fell asleep at practice?” Scott says. “It was pretty early, and you hadn’t woken up just yet and you just sort of… nodded off in the stands…”

Tessa folds her arms, looking at him with amusement.

“Yes, you tried to be helpful, I believe,” she says.

Scott grins and looks to Maddy.

“So, I toss her skate guards to the side and start thinking I’ll just put her skates on while she naps so we’ll be ready to start on time,” Scott says. “So, I put the right one on and Tessa wakes up and sees what I’m doing and…”

Maddy is looking back at them with confusion.

“She’s so particular,” Scott says. “Left skate first always, but I wasn’t thinking about that… and then she saw her skate guards lying half-way across the mats and let’s just say that to this day I am extremely lucky to be alive.”

“He’s not wrong,” Tessa replies. “Although you did make me dinner later, which was very sweet.”

“Yes,” Scott says, with a grin. “And I’d be very happy to let you sample my delights for a second time.”

Tessa chokes on her own cough, and Scott looks back at the camera with a sheepish smile.

“Uh… cut?” he says.

* * *

_  
"Woo hoo!”_

_“Yeah!”_

_“Wow!”_

_“Team Canada!”_

_“Great job, guys!”_

_“We love the Goose!”_

(Applause)

…

_“It only took us six attempts to get the perfect shot!”_

_“Consider how long it’s been, Tess.”_

_“I know but…”_

_“No ‘buts’, just tell ‘em it was intentional, that we had a plan all along."_

_“What?”_

_“Like the song.”_

_“What song?”_

_“You know the one.”_

_“No, I don’t… wait… oh no… no!”_

_“Hey, viewers! So,_ I’m _Scott Moir and this is Tessa Virtue and the footage you’re about to see contains…”_

_“Oh my God, Scott, no.”_

_“Six geese a laying!”_

  
(Laughter)  
  
…

_  
“Why are you laughing? Look at her go! Did I make you laugh? No, don’t try to hide it now, it was there I saw it, we all saw it!  You all saw it, right? She hates me now… look at her… why’re you sitting on the ice there? Do you need a hand? Should I call 911? Tess? Stand back folks! I think these giggles may be infectious! Scott Moir slays again!”_

(More laughter)

_“Sleighs…”_

_“You okay there, T?”_

(Giggles)

_“Sleighs…”_

_“I think we’re losing her.”_

_“Scott… Santa… sleigh.”_

_“You know really… if you have to explain your joke then… ouch! Hey! And there I was about to invite you ‘round for some trifle.”_

_“Trifle?”_

_“Yes!”_

_“You_ made _a trifle?”_

 _“Hey, just because_ you _and the kitchen don’t always get along…”_

_“Says the guy who once tried to cook a chicken on a hotplate…”_

_“That was a one-time thing!”_

_“That I had to hear about for_ days _.”_

_“Hey, I will not be-”_

_“Trifled with?”_

_..._

(Laughter)

...

 

Maddy hits pause and three computer screens freeze simultaneously.

 _“This is gold,”_ Catherine says, her face filling the screen of the iPad.

“I agree,” Maddy says. “The lights, the atmosphere, the snow, makes it even more enticing. And the skating looks magical.”

_“Do I sense a ‘but’?”_

“The ‘but’ is _me_ , Catherine,” Tessa says, coming up behind Maddy.

 _“What’s the problem?”_ Catherine asks.

“The problem is that this is not… a Tessa and Scott Christmas Special,” she says.

 _“Then maybe it should be,”_ Catherine says. _“It makes for good television and audiences are responding to it.”_

“But Scott hasn’t agreed to it,” Tessa says. “He’s a private guy and you’re both going to angle for something that isn’t there.”

“Tess,” Maddy says.

“Maddy,” Tessa replies, folding her arms across her chest. “You said it yourself, Catherine, you wanted a… Hallmark movie moment… even a suggested one.”

 _“Yes, I did,”_ Catherine says. _“But this is better.”_

“How is it _better_?”

 _“Because it feels real,”_ Catherine says. _“The response on social media and through focus groups has been extremely positive and once they see this new ‘round of footage then -”_

“What?” Tessa says. “We fool people into believing that there’s something going on between the two of us?”

“But there _is_ something going on,” Maddy says.

Tessa sighs in frustration.

“No, there isn’t,” she says.

“Tess, I don’t mean it that way, I just mean… the chemistry between the two of you… works. It reads well on camera.”

 _“I agree,”_ Catherine says.

Tessa looks between the two women trying to come up with a way to make them see her side of things.

“So, you have no problem with deceiving the public like this?” she asks.

 _“No one is deceiving anyone, Tess,”_ Catherine says.

Tessa shoots Maddy a glance that she hopes reminds her producer of their earlier conversation on the matter.

“Tess,” Maddy says. “Viewers are going to believe what they _want_ to believe.”

 _“No one’s asking you to make out with the man,”_ Catherine says.

“I think what Catherine’s _trying_ to say,” Maddy says, gently. “Is that _they’re_ going to make those conclusions on their own.”

 _“And in this business the truth is only circumvented by the things people want to_ believe _are true,”_ Catherine says.

“And is that fair to Scott?” Tessa says.

Catherine sighs.

 _“Look, Tess, I realise that this whole situation hasn’t been fair to you,”_ she says. _“And if you want to be angry with me for forcing this on you, then, by all means, go for it - I won’t hold it against you. But do me a favour will you and look at that monitor again.”_

Tessa shifts her attention to the series of screens – all of which feature a close-up of her and Scott, pink-faced and laughing, as she sits on the ice and he crouches down in front of her, holding his hands out to hers.

 _“That is one hundred percent natural,”_ Catherine says. _“And it’s resonating with viewers at home.”_

“We don’t want you do anything you’re uncomfortable with, Tess,” Maddy says. “But it’s only been a week and you have already managed to deflect attention away from the drama that brought you here in the first place. Yes, maybe they’re not entitled to know the reason why you hated Christmas and it sucks little donkey balls that you’re the one being taken to task here.”

Tessa catches a glimpse of Catherine, whose eyebrows raise imperceptibly at the dig.

“But people are rooting for you,” Maddy continues. “Because at the end of the day, they love a happy ending… even if it’s just the idea of one.”

 _“And in January,”_ Catherine says. _“People will exit the bubble, go back to their lives, they’ll get their credit card bills, they’ll make resolutions to get fitter and be happier and your work out channel gets a huge boost.”_

Maddy snorts.

 _“But for now, we play the game,”_ Catherine says.

Tessa nods.

“I’d like to talk to Scott first,” she says. “It isn’t fair on him otherwise.”

 _“Whatever you want,”_ Catherine says.

“And I want a say in when I’m on camera and what gets broadcast,” Tessa says.

Catherine looks surprised but doesn’t disagree.

“I understand that I have a job to do here,” Tessa says. “And I’ll finish it. But my privacy and my… relationship… with Scott is not part of the deal and I will not pretend that it’s anything more than what it is.”

“I think that’s fair,” Maddy says. “And I’m sure Steve won’t mind not having to lug that monstrosity around all day, won’t you, Steve?”

Steve looks up from the couch just then, his head having been buried in the latest copy of _Game Informer_ , and grunts.

“Charming,” Maddy says, turning back to Catherine. “So, we’re all agreed then?”

 _“Agreed,”_ Catherine says.

Tessa nods.

“Agreed,” she says, a little more quietly.

Catherine ends the Face Time and Tessa sighs.

“It went better than I thought it would,” she says.

Maddy puts an arm around her shoulder.

“You’re doing great, Tess.”

Tessa smiles.

“Why don’t you go get some rest,” Maddy says, giving a nod toward Steve. “I’m gonna kick this skulk out and finish up here, before I say goodnight to Jenn.”

“I’m not sure I can sleep right now,” Tessa says. “Besides, there’s something I’ve been meaning to do since I got here so…”

“Okay,” Maddy says. “Don’t stay up too late.”

“Yes, Mom,” Tessa replies, heading towards the door.

She pauses at the handle.

“Maddy?”

“Yeah?”

“Is it hard?” Tessa asks. “The distance, I mean. How do you make it work when you and Jenn aren’t always on the same continent, let alone in the same country?”

Maddy tilts her head and shrugs.

“I guess… we both know who we are, and we’ve never tried to change that,” she says. “We make sacrifices where we need to – there’s a lot of compromise – and it’s not always easy but… we love each other, and I guess there came a point in our lives where we owed it to each other to figure us out. And once we’d done that… it got better.”

Tessa nods slowly.

“I’m happy for you,” she says.

“Thanks, babe,” Maddy says. “Now go have some fun… and y’know… if you happen to run into some hot figure skater who invites you in for mince pies and cocoa well… I mean… officially I don’t wanna know but… y’know… _unofficially_ , I will need a play-by-play.”

Tessa pulls a face.

“I am not going to Scott’s.”

“Hey, I didn’t say anything about that Moir boy!” Maddy says. “It was _you_ that brought him up.”

Tessa smiles.

“Goodnight, Maddy,” she says.

“Goodnight, Tess,” Maddy says, with a grin. “Make good choices!”

Tessa shuts the door behind her and shakes her head, before starting down the hallway.

_“Use protection!”_

Tessa halts her step, smiling gingerly at the Inn’s owner who was delivering a fresh batch of towels to the couple down the hall. All three of them are staring back at her.

She disappears down the stairs, through the lobby and out into the night, thanking the stars that an elderly couple in their seventies was unlikely to be posting about their encounter on Twitter.

* * *

 

Tessa tugs her hat down a little further, covering her ears against the cold as she walks. She’s been out for nearly an hour, the path alongside the lake as familiar to her as the streets of downtown Toronto. It’s a clear night, with the stars and the moon bright enough to guide her way – not that this makes it any more sensible but if she’d asked to borrow Maddy’s car, then Maddy would have asked where she was going. It was easier to let her imagine she’d be out with Scott, than to explain where she was going and why she had to go there.

She’s walked this same path a thousand times – once all the way to Niagara Falls. She’d been mad about something Chris had done, so she’d started walking and just kept going. The thing is, she doesn’t really remember now what had happened or why she’d felt that way – but she does remember Scott catching up to her on the path and sticking with her for as long as she needed to work it out. She’d been seventeen at the time and was over the crush she’d developed two years earlier when they’d come out of a lift, noses a little too close, their lips accidentally brushing against one another. It hadn’t been a… kiss. Not really. But it had been enough to make her think about Scott a little differently, as a guy, rather than just her skating partner.

Unfortunately for her, Scott seemed to find her more of a nuisance back then, someone who kept getting in the way of his friendship with Chris. She’d known that Chris liked her, maybe wanted to ask her out (if his joking about it was anything to go by) but it wasn’t until a year later that he actually did it – much to Scott’s dislike.  They’d managed to work through it the best that two kids could - mutually agreeing to keep it separate from their skating.  But it wasn’t so easy dating your partner’s best friend and things had been frosty for a while when it came to anything outside of that partnership.

And then – Niagara.

His appearance beside her was unexpected but not unwelcome and she remembers looking out at the Falls, taking in their splendour, before Scott had guided her away in search of food. They’d taken the bus home and she’d fallen asleep on his shoulder, waking only when they’d reached Mistleton station. He’d smiled down at her and she’s pretty sure she’d blushed, before they stepped off the bus, waved their goodbyes and headed home. She’d never told Chris, and while she can’t be certain, she’s she’s pretty sure Scott hadn’t either.

Tessa looks up from the memory to find she’s reached the dock, its quaint familiarity needling her in the ribs. She wonders if the turtle dove ornament she’d thrown that day is still lying there at the bottom of the lake or whether the tide had pulled it away by now. It’s not something she’s ever likely to find out. Tessa takes a deep breath as she makes her way up the path to Virtue Lodge, treading carefully through the snow.

There’s a light on in the living room window and a tree lying on the front porch. Tessa frowns, she didn’t think her mother rented the place to anybody around Christmas.

_Thwack. Thwack. Thwack._

She stops short at the noise, recognising the sound, but also wandering who on earth would be chopping wood at this hour.

_Thwack. Thwack. Thwack._

She heads around back, taking it slow. There’s an unfamiliar car parked out front – not that she’d recognise it anyway – but she doesn’t want to intrude on the off chance her mother _had_ rented it out.

_Thwack. Thwack. Thwack._

She takes a cautious step around the back of the lodge.

“Hello?” she says, tentatively, not wanting to startle anyone.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” she replies, surprise filling her features.

“Just can’t get enough of me, eh?” he says.

“No, I… I guess not,” Tessa replies.

“Still waiting on those emails, by the way,” he says with a grin.

She steps toward him, the light from the back porch bathing them in a soft glow.

“Scott… what’re you… _doing_ here?” she asks.

He smiles, easily and it completely disarms her - any flood of defence she may have had against him abandoning her with haste. Scott was here, and she was here – and she can’t imagine he’s thinking of anything else but the last time they’d both been in this place.

Scott pulls off his gloves and sets down the axe.

“Uh, your Mom often asks me to look in on the place,” he says. “Just to make sure nothing needs fixing or y’know… if it needs more logs for the Winter.”

“She… does?”

This is new information to Tessa, confusing information, but she supposes she’s never actually given her mother much scope for talking about Scott.

“Yeah,” he replies. “I don’t mind though, keeps me honest.”

“Is… is someone here?”

“What, renting?” Scott says. “No. No… no one’s ever here on Christmas.”

Tessa nods.

“Oh,” she says. “Wait… then, what’s with the tree outside?”

Scott looks down at his hands, before shoving them deep in his pockets.

“Uh… no reason… I had to pick up a new one after… well… after the last one got beat up by a truck,” he says.

Tessa gives a little laugh, scuffing her boot along the snow. She can hear Scott chuckling low at the memory.

“Scott?”

“Yeah?”

“What’s it doing on the porch?”

Scott looks up suddenly.

“Huh?”

“The tree,” Tessa says. “It’s on the porch. Shouldn’t it still be on the roof of your car?”

“Well I…”

His eyes meet hers and there’s something in them that draws her closer toward him. He looks sad and hopeful at the same time and it stirs up a memory she’d been trying to fight since she got here.

“Scott?”

“I put a tree up every year,” he says.

“You put a… what?”

“A tree,” he says. “Just in case.”

“Just in case… what?” she says, although she already knows the answer.

“Just in case you come back,” he says.

Tessa doesn’t know what to say and she stares back at him, mouth moving a little, her throat suddenly numb.

Scott smiles. It’s soft and self-deprecating and she has this sudden urge to stroke his cheek, to make contact with his skin and just… feel.

“You… do this every year?” she says.

He nods.

“Every year,” he replies.

“I don’t…”

“It’s okay, Tess,” he says.

She sniffs.

“No, it’s not.”

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“Scott, it’s not _your_ fault I hate Christmas,” she says, hating the bitterness in her voice. “Just like it isn’t your fault that my Dad decided he’d had enough. Everything just… fell apart.”

“I know,” he says, gently.

“And I just wanted to come here to… God, I don’t even know why I’m here.”

“I can go if you want?” he says.

She shakes her head.

“Okay,” he says. “You want to go inside? I can start a fire and I’ve got hot chocolate and marshmallows in the car?”

Tessa smiles.

“That sounds great,” she says, walking around front with him and watching the slight frown form on his face.

“Wait, did you walk here?” he says.

 “Mm hm,” she replies.

“What if something had happened!”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know… what if a… bear had attacked you or something?”

“By _bear_ , do you mean squirrel?” she says. “It’s Mistleton, Scott.”

“You could have fallen on the path or slipped on some ice,” he says. “And you know better.”

She smiles at his concern.

“I’m sorry,” she says.

He nods, done with the lecture.

Rummaging in the car, Scott pulls out a box of supplies.

“Hey, remember when we walked to Niagara?” he says.

Tessa looks at him in surprise.

“I was… I was just thinking about that,” she admits.

He grins.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she says. “I was thinking about a lot of things, actually.”

“Really?” he says. “What else were you thinking about?”

“I don’t know,” she replies. “I guess… um… us.”

“Us?” he says, wiggling his eyebrows at her. “According to social media -”

“Wait, whoa, _social media_?” she says. “Who _are_ you?”

“Hey, I know all about that instant gram now,” he says.

“It’s Instagram,” Tessa says, with amusement.

“ _Anyway_ ,” Scott says. “According to the Twitter, we are _definitely_ a thing now. I read it.”

“How?”

“Well, I started school when I was five and then -”

She swats him on the arm.

“I’ll give you a thousand dollars right now if it wasn’t Cara who showed you,” she says.

He grins.

So, you were thinking about us, eh?”

“Yeah, just how far we’ve come since we were kids,” she says. “I mean… there was a time you didn’t even _like_ me.”

He looks a little taken aback.

“Scott, it’s fine,” she says.

“Tess,” he says, quietly. “I’ve always liked you.”

She gives him a look as they step onto the porch.

“You don’t believe me?” he says.

“Scott, it’s not that I don’t…”

She stops at the door, memory sweeping through her senses and cloaking her in its grasp.

“Come on, kiddo” he says, pushing the door open. “Let’s get you inside.”

She gives herself a count of five and after another deep breath, Tessa Virtue takes her first steps inside the Lodge in almost four years.

* * *

  
“That’s not how it happened.”

“That _is_ how it happened.”

“No… it’s not.”

“Are you saying that I’m… _remembering_ it… wrong?

“No… I’m just… I’m saying that you’re remembering it _differently_.”

Tessa laughs.

“So, I just… _imagined_ the parts where you just wouldn’t talk to me?” she says. “When you’d race out of the club with Chris and I’d be left standing there wondering what on earth I’d done?”

Scott winces.

They’re sitting near the fire, their backs against the leg of the sofa, with a thermos between them.

She’s looking at him, her eyes locked with his in shared history. She’s not angry, he can see that, but he can also see that she believes what she’s saying and he’d never quite imagined that her truth was somehow different from his.

“You didn’t… you didn’t _do_ anything,” he says. “You never… did anything. I was just…”

“What?”

“I don’t know… stupid?”

“I’ve never thought you were stupid, Scott” Tessa says, quietly, taking a sip from her cup.

“I know, I… didn’t mean it like that, I just meant… I didn’t always…”

He spreads his palms, searching for the words.

“I didn’t always handle things in the best way.”

“What do you mean?” she says, a small frown appearing in her forehead.

“I needed to be able to separate you and Chris,” he says. “And way before you guys were a thing, I just… didn’t want you in the same space.”

“Oh,” Tessa says.

She hides it well, but he can still see a flicker of hurt in her eyes.

“Tess,” he says, putting a hand on hers.

“It’s fine, Scott,” she says, but he can feel how tense her fingers are beneath his and he desperately needs it to be the way it was on the ice just a few hours earlier, when nothing could have broken the space between their palms.

He shifts his body, turning so that his knees are a little closer to hers now.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he says.

“I said it’s fine,” she says, her voice coming out in a croak.

“Tess,” he says, gently.

She rubs the back of her hand against her cheek, catching a tear as it falls.

“It’s just this place,” she says, with a sniff. “I’m fine, really.”

“Are you?” he says.

“Yeah,” she replies. “And I’m just tired, I’ve been working a lot.”

“I did always laugh at the irony of them giving you a _morning_ show,” he says, with affection.

She laughs, her eyes still bright with unshed tears. Scott nudges her with his arm, before resting his cheek against her hair.

“So, you really decorate a tree, huh?” she says, pointing to the boxes of decorations on the floor.

“You okay with that?” he says.

“I don’t… I don’t really know what I am right now,” she admits.

He drops his arm down from behind her, his thumb beginning to stroke the bare skin between her sweater and her neck.

“You – uh – want to help me put the tree up?” he says. “I mean you don’t have to but… I could use the company.”

He watches the line of her neck as she swallows, can see her thinking it through.

“Okay,” she says.

“Okay?”

“Okay.”

* * *

  
Tessa steps outside into the night, wrapping her arms around herself to ward off the cold. It’s been so long since she’s decorated a tree and she can’t help but feel a little emotional about it.

“Hey,” he says, stepping out behind her and wrapping a tartan fleece around her shoulders.

She smiles as he rubs his hands up and down her arms – he used to that a lot when they were training.

“Thank you,” she says.

“Well I can’t have you freezing to death, now can I?” he says. “We still gotta show off those twizzles, eh?”

She laughs, turning around to face him.

“I’m not talking about the blanket, Scott,” she says, putting a hand against his chest. “I’m talking about tonight. My Mom… wants to sell this place and I… I guess I’m having a hard time with that.”

“A lot of memories here,” he says.

“Yeah,” she replies.

He reaches out to brush the stray tear from her cheek and she presses into his touch, her eyes closing at the contact.

“What are you doing to me?” she whispers, lowering her head into his chest, her shoulders shaking with every breath.

She can feel his head drop down to hers as he brushes his lips against her hair.

“I’m not trying to do anything to you, Tess,” he says, putting her cheeks between his palms and lifting her face to his. “I know I can’t give Christmas back to you. I know I can’t take away the hurt it brought when… when your dad left. And I know I can’t undo the guilt you felt after. I can’t imagine what it must be like to hit this time of year and… have all of that come flooding back, and it fucking sucks you have to do it all in front of an audience.”

She nods, her hands coming up to grasp his.

“Thank you,” she whispers.

“You don’t have to thank me, Tess,” he says. “You don’t owe me anything.”

“I feel like I do,” she says.

“Okay, then, what say you and I go to Waffleton and you duck out to the bathroom again and leave your plate unattended? We’ll call it even.”

Tessa laughs.

“I think it’s a little late for that,” she says. “Any other ideas?”

“No,” he says. “I’m out. Want me to drive you home?”

“Or we could sit by the fire a little longer,” she says.

“I’d like that,” he says, brushing her chin with his thumb.

“Me too,” she replies.

* * *

  
Scott stops at the gas station on his way home, trying not to think about the half-dozen times he wanted to kiss her tonight. He’s about eighty percent certain she would have let him, but where would that have left them? Tessa’s life was in Toronto, his was here and everything he was feeling right now was just a by-product of old memories. It was temporary spin-off show born from once again spinning around in each other’s orbit. He didn’t mind the attention – it was good for the town, it was good for business and he’s kind of enjoyed hamming it up for the cameras. He doesn’t care about the speculation or the fantasy being spun in their names – they’d spent their entire career like that. And unlike before, they were both single and there wasn’t that risk of anybody else being hurt by the charade. And when it’s all over, she’ll leave, and he’ll go on with his life, get back on the ice and that’ll be it.

Except for that minor inconvenient thought of him not wanting her to leave but what could he do about that? She’s made it clear that she’s just here to do her job so that she can keep it – and who is he to mess that up for her?

Scott pays for the gas and a couple of energy bars, before heading for the door.

“Scott, your keys!”

He shakes his head, jogging back towards the guy at the register.

“Thanks Andy,” he says. “Don’t know where my head was at.”

“No problem, you have a nice night.”

“Same to you, buddy,” Scott says, darting back towards the door and throwing it open, feeling the resistance as it hits somebody else on the way in. “Sorry, that was my bad, I…”

Scott feels the words die in his throat while his mind tries to reconcile the image in front of him, even though there was no logical reason he could find for it just yet.

“Chris?” he says.

“Hey Scott… long time no see.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know! I know! But lbr anyone who has read my previous work knows how much I love a cliffhanger - the fact that it's taken seven chapters is amazing. Thank you so much for all the positive messages you have been sending, they have meant the world to me!!
> 
> So I sat with this chapter a little longer than I thought I'd need to, and it honestly didn't go the way I thought it would. I managed to push myself back on track though as we head into the rest of the back half. Up next: Scott wrestles with telling Tessa that her old boyfriend and his ex-best friend is in town, as he gets lost in the reasons his friendship ended so badly. And as Tessa and Scott find ways to get closer, they'll find it's not easy separating their feelings from the public interest that surrounds them.


	8. Santa Baby, I Want a Scott and Really That's Not... A Lot.

“Hi, this is Tessa Virtue.”

“And I’m Scott Moir.”

“And this holiday season, we’ll be showing all of _you_ at home how to twizzle your way through those holiday parties.”

“Maybe you’re a busy gal or guy and you have to figure out a way to meet all those social engagements without ending up on the naughty list.”

“Or maybe you just want some tips on how to feel your best this Christmas and still enjoy all of those festive treats.”

“Oh, I’d _definitely_ tune in to that one… the Virtch here totally loves the sweets.”

“And _you_ would definitely end up on the naughty list.”

“While we head over to the boards over there, so I can explain to Tessa _just_ how wrong she is, why don’t you sit back, relax, and watch us recreate some of our most memorable moves on the ice…”  
  


* * *

 

**Mistleton, 2009**

“You can’t keep doing this.”

“Doing what?”

“ _Flip-flopping_ back and forth whenever you’re pissed,” Scott says, running a hand through his hair. “She doesn’t deserve that man.”

“And what does she deserve, Scotto… you?”

“Jesus, Chris,” Scott says. “This is not about me.”

“It’s always about you, Scott,” Chris says. “You hear Tessa’s name and it’s automatically accompanied by _‘and Scott Moir’_. There’s no escaping it.”

“We’re figure skaters for God’s sake, that’s our _job_ ,” Scott replies, his face turning red with frustration.

“Which works out nicely for you seeing as that’s the way you like it,” Chris says, tossing aside the 5-iron and staring back at Scott.

Scott ignores the fact that Chris is deliberately throwing it down to be petty and make a point - the club was part of a set that Scott had bought him.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, man.”

“Sure, you don’t, eh,” Chris says. “It’s not like you haven’t taken every opportunity to heat up the ice with my girlfriend.”

“Chris… it’s a performance, you know this, we’ve talked about this a hundred times and the _only_ reason you’re pissed right now is because you can’t make things work with T.”

Chris snorts.

“And that’s because you… _and T_ ,” he says, his tone mocking. “Managed to move on without me.

“Whose goddamn fault is _that_?” Scott says, throwing his hands up in the air. “You broke _up_ with her… _you_ said you weren’t sure you could handle a relationship that didn’t prioritise you guys over her sport. She understood that, and you went off to college! What was she supposed to do? Stroke your ego a little more? Blame herself for the loss of a three-year relationship when you didn’t _exactly_ make it easy on her?”

“And you know so much about this _how_?” Chris asks. “By finding more and more ways to _feel_ her up, loosening her lips while you nuzzle her neck?”

“Jesus, Chris, again, we’re performers,” Scott says. “And I would never take advantage of her like that.”

“Oh sure,” Chris says. “So, I come back to town and suddenly the two of you are best friends? _My_ old girlfriend and the guy who didn’t even care enough to check in on her after her surgery.”

“Chris, don’t do this.”

“Don’t do what, Scott? Call you out for your shit?”

“Don’t assume you know everything about it,” Scott says. “Yeah, I could have been a better guy, but we worked it out.”

“So, you’re a ‘we’ now, eh?”

Scott shakes his head, trying to clear himself of the urge to push the guy down onto the green and beat him over the head with the iron.

“As far as our partnership is concerned, yeah, we are,” he says.

“Yeah, well, my eyes tell me more that that,” Chris says.

“Chris, I have a girlfriend,” Scott says, irritably. “There is _nothing_ going between me and Tess, and I’m pretty tired of having to hold your hand about this. _You’re_ the one who came back, _you’re_ the one who said you missed her and wanted to make it work. It’s been eight months, and you _knew_ going into this that we were heading for the Olympics. She’s put up with your random disappearing acts every time her schedule gets tight and she’s never once questioned where you were or who you were with.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Come on man.”

“No, tell me,” Chris says. “What does it mean?”

“You know we have mutual friends, man,” Scott says. “I know you were seeing someone else while you were away.”

“Is that a crime?” Chris says. “Having a girlfriend?”

Scott does a couple of paces before turning back to Chris.

“No,” Scott says. “But it’s a shit thing to have two.”

Chris picks up the 5-iron and shoves it back into the bag.

“Stay out of this, Scott,” Chris says. “Tessa and I are none of your business, _that’s_ the deal she agreed to when I came back.”

Scott grinds his teeth.

“And in return,” Chris says. “We don’t talk about _you_. That’s the deal _I_ agreed to.”

“What… happened to you, Chris?” Scott says. “I thought we were friends.”

“We were friends, Scott,” he replies. “And we can still be friends. Amber and I were always a casual thing, I didn’t want anything serious after three and half years with Tess. So yeah, we’re still friends, we go to the same college, we meet up for coffee every now and then, but that’s all it is. So, you can be pissed at me for disappearing to Ottawa or you can _get_ over it and we can hang out, hit a couple of bars and get wasted. Your choice, Scott. So, what’re you gonna choose?”

Scott picks up his golf bag and swings it over his shoulder.

“Tess, Chris,” he says. “I choose Tess.”  
  


* * *

 

**Mistleton, Present Day**

“Hey,” Scott says. “Uh… how are you?”

“Good… thank you,” Chris says. “You?”

“Yeah… good… thanks,” Scott replies, still a little stunned.

“Good.”

“What… what brings you to Mistleton?” Scott asks, his voice a little higher than he’d like it to be.

Chris eyes him quizzically.

“We were invited, remember?”

Scott stares at him blankly.

Chris gives a low chuckle and shakes his head.

“Community newsletter?” Chris says. “Goes out every month? Always invites everybody home for Christmas?”

“Right,” Scott says, still not getting why he was actually _here_.

“My mom still gets it sent to her, my folks are down in St. Catharine’s now.”

“Yeah, I… remember,” Scott says, lamely.

“We’re spending Christmas at their place and decided to visit the fair… old time’s sake and all that. It’s nice for the kids too.”

“Yeah, I mean, you can’t beat a Mistleton Christmas,” Scott says, bobbing his head up and down.

Chris snorts.

“Relax man,” he says. “We’re leaving tomorrow after the carol service.”

“Leaving?”

“We got here yesterday.”

“Yesterday?” Scott says, realising he must sound like a complete idiot right now.

“Yesterday,” Chris confirms.

“How did I not… I didn’t see you.”

“Well there are a lot of people about, a lot of out-of-towners and I dare say _you_ have been distracted.”

Scott shifts his gaze, wondering how much trouble it would cause to set himself on fire.

Chris snorts again and it irritates him thoroughly. He knows Chris moved to Ottawa, that he has a wife and kids now, that he’s entitled to visit Mistleton as much as anyone – but it bugs him that the guy is standing there so smugly, with that knowing look in his eye.

“You haven’t changed, Scotto,” he says.

“I’m sorry?” Scott says.

“I haven’t been here in – what – eight years?” Chris says. “I’m happily married, I’ve got three kids and a life six-hundred kilometers away, and you still don’t want me near her.”

Scott shoves his hands in his pockets.

“Maybe I’ve got good reason,” he says, quietly.

“Look, I know I made mistakes back then,” Chris says. “Don’t act self-righteous and pretend you couldn’t be an asshole either. This wasn’t something you did because you didn’t like my choices. You _never_ wanted me near her – don’t think I never understood why you tried so hard to pretend you didn’t want her around. I knew, Scott. I knew the second I watched you skate. Funny thing is, even with me gone… you still couldn’t tell her how you felt.”

Scott sniffs and looks away, giving himself time to think.

“What do you want me say?” Scott says, with a shrug.

“It doesn’t really matter now does it?” Chris says. “It’s still the Tessa and Scott show around here… and I’m pretty sure those cameras around town have said it all. Goodnight, Scott.”

He watches Chris head inside to pay for his gas, irritated and ashamed by his own behaviour.

Eight years was a long time and while he wasn’t about to let Chris make him feel guilty for enjoying this time with Tess, he couldn’t fault the guy for making the point. Truth is, he’d wanted to go after her but the months after Sochi, after the tours ended and the press died down, were hard, and he’d felt lost and aimless. And when she left, he’d figured she was better off finding her own path without him.

And he’d felt an idiot every damn day because of it.  
  


* * *

 

“Well, I hope you’ve all enjoyed yesterday’s festivities. It was an honour to once again skate under the lights of Mistleton - although I’ll admit I have some notes on how we could do even better next time.”

“I got the PDF this morning to prove it,” Scott says, appearing suddenly behind her.

Tessa gives the camera a look.

“He’s kidding,” she says.

“Not kidding,” he mouths.

Tessa spreads her fingers over his face and pushes him away gently.

“Don’t you have a _job_?” she says.

“I thought this _was_ my job,” Scott says, with a grin. “Am _I_ not getting paid for this?”

“I’m afraid not,” she says.

“Huh,” he says. “I’m not sure how I feel about that.”

“Well you did kind of…”

“What?”

“Do it to yourself,” she whispers, knowing full-well the microphone will have picked it up.

“No!” he says.

“Yes,” she says.

“Okay, but admit it, you like it,” he says, before turning his head to the camera. “She likes it. A bit of comedy, partnering up, I come in and sweep her off her feet…”

“Don’t you mean _knock_ me off my feet?” Tessa says.

“Now that you mention it, did I ever tell you guys about the time we -”

“You _do_ know we’re live right now?” Tessa says, arching an eyebrow.

Scott grins.

“In that case,” he says. “Hi everyone, I’m about to post a poll on the Tweeter…”

Tessa rolls her eyes.

“We’ve got one more slot available for the Christmas Skating Carnival,” he says. “A simple ‘yes’ or ‘no’ answer. The question is this: Tessa Virtue, will you skate with me?”

Tessa’s mouth drops open in surprise.

“You know that’s not how Twitter polls work, right?” she says.

“I know,” he says. “The ‘yes’ or ‘no’ is whether or not I should wear a Santa costume again.”

Tessa laughs.

“What do you say, Virtch?” he says, putting an arm around her shoulders and turning her body toward the camera. “Will you skate with me?”

Tessa smiles up at him.

“Boy, I sure hope you’ve got that Santa suit,” she replies.  
  


* * *

 

Scott stares out at the water, his mind a blur of memory caught somewhere between past and present. He’s not sure how he got through today to be honest. It was easy enough this morning - in front of the cameras. But two hours in the studio with Tess, another three on the ice and he’d passed his limit on how much he could pretend that his feelings for her weren’t real.

Thirty minutes in, they’d both realised that that some jolly recreation of their childhood carnival skate wasn’t working. So, they’d sat with a spread of music, let it run in the background while they figured out what they wanted this to be, and by the time they’d laced up their skates and found their way onto the ice, they knew it was right. They’d worked hard and talked little, letting their feet, their eyes, their hands, tell the story. And he’d tried – he tells himself now – he’d tried to tell her about Chris.

But he’d bowed out.

Because, telling her meant he’d also have to explain why he’d kept it from her all day. And _then_ he’d have to explain what he’d kept from her for eight years.

“Mind if I sit?” she says, coming up beside him.

Scott looks up from the bench, a little surprised to see her.

“Of course,” he says, gesturing to the space beside him.

“It’s a great view,” Tessa says, nodding out at the lake in front of them. “Doesn’t matter what season it is, it’s always so beautiful.”

“Yeah,” he replies, completely distracted by the loose strands of hair that have escaped her braid.

“I enjoyed today,” she says. “I’d forgotten how much I miss working like that.”

“You don’t skate much in Toronto?”

“Not with a partner,” she says.

Scott nods into his lap.

“Did you think I had?” she says.

“I don’t know,” he admits. “I don’t anything about your life in Toronto.”

She looks away.

“You’re the only person I’ve ever wanted to skate with, Scott,” she says, quietly.

He sighs and places his hand on hers, covering her knee.

“I’m sorry, that was rude,” he says.

“Scott, are you okay?” she asks. “Look, if this is too much for you… if you want to pull out, I understand. You didn’t ask for this. There’s enough going on, Maddy’s good at finding stories, and Steve’s got more than enough footage to see us through ‘til Christmas Eve. We don’t have to -”

“No, I want to,” he says, turning to face her.

“You do?”

“Being on the ice with you today,” he says. “I…”

“What?” she says, reaching out and touching his arm.

He chuckles a little.

“I can’t remember why we stopped.”

“Scott -”

“I know,” he says, leaning his forehead against hers. “I know. It was just… nice… y’know?”

“I know,” she replies.

“Tess, I… I kind of need to tell you something.”

She slides her hand from his arm to the side of his neck, her thumb caressing his jaw while her other hand presses gently against his chest.

“Are you okay?” she says, again, lifting her head to look at him.

He reaches out to run his fingers through the lock of hair resting against her cheek, before cupping her chin, taking the time to check in with her, to make sure she was okay with him being so close.

She doesn’t pull away.

The only change he senses in her is a quickening of pulse, and the pressure of her fingers against the back of his neck. There are so many things he wants to say but even if he had another eighty years, he’s still not sure he’d be able to say them all.

They’d been a long time coming, he thinks, before leaning in toward her and pressing his lips softly against hers.

She doesn’t respond at first and he thinks, for a second, that he read this wrong. But then slowly, the pressure returns, and her lips answer his with an intensity, both tender and urgent. She wraps her arms around his neck, her fingers getting lost in his hair as he pulls her toward him, his hands parting the folds of her coat and coming to rest against her hips, his fingers stroking lightly at the skin just above her jeans. His tongue sweeps over hers, tasting the sweetness of her mouth and she responds in kind, drawing him into her and closing any distance between them. She feels warm against him, a heat creeping into her skin as her lips move tentatively against his, as her pulse quickens, and her mind – if not her body – begs for breath. He brings one hand up to her cheek as she breaks away, her chest rising and falling in time with his, her eyes searching him for a clarity he can’t yet provide. He’s not sure how long they’ve been here, just, looking at each other.

“So, uh, you’re probably wondering why I did that,” he says, eventually.

She laughs softly, tugging at the back of his neck so that his temple rests against hers once more.

“Moir, my mind is still finding it’s way back to my body,” she says. “So just… give it a minute, okay?”

Scott smiles.

“Okay.”

“What did you want to tell me?” she says. “Earlier, I mean… y’know… before your lips started doing all the talking.”

“Uh, Tess?” he says. “That’s _normally_ the part of you that talks.”

She laughs.

“Oh, yeah,” she says, the flush creeping back into her cheeks. “You know what I meant.”

“No, no,” he says. “I think you’re going to have to explain it to me… slowly and in detail.”

She wrinkles her nose at him and he laughs loudly, enjoying the way she’s smiling at him now, unreservedly.

“Slow and detailed, huh?” Tessa says. “I think you’re going to have to buy a girl dinner first before you get any of that.”

She presses her lips gently against his once more.

“But you can have that one to see you through,” she whispers.

He raises an eyebrow, smiling against her cheek.

“I’ll take it,” he says, savouring the way her fingers were still stroking the back of his neck.

“So, what did you want to tell me?” she asks, pulling back a little to look at him.

He smiles, knowing he’s using it to distract her, knowing he just wants this between them a little longer.

“It can wait,” he replies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh no! Did this girl really just fix a cliffhanger by posting ANOTHER one? The very nerve!
> 
> Anyway!
> 
> Up next: Scott's secret doesn't stay that way for long, and he soon finds out that the deal Tessa struck with Chris, all those years ago, means a hell of a lot more than he thought it did.


	9. Last Christmas, I Gave You My Scott

Tessa stands in the lobby of The Mistleton Inn, watching two young boys sharing a tablet between them, while she buttons up her coat. They laugh excitedly, pointing and arguing playfully over what to do next, rocking backwards and forwards a little in their shared armchair. Their mother is just behind them, trying to wrestle the youngest of the boys into his gloves.

Tessa smiles, thinking about Poppy. Her niece is not too fond of gloves either.

“Ready to go?” Maddy says, appearing suddenly beside her.

“Yes!” Tessa says, brightly. “Is Steve meeting us there?”

“I think so,” Maddy says. “Honestly, I don’t really care. The guy has been doing his own thing the past couple days. This morning I walked past that bar… y’know… the one with the nice hanging baskets?”

“The Maple Brew,” Tessa says, with a nod.

“Yeah, that’s the one,” Maddy says, with a little shake of the head. “And he was just _sitting_ there, nursing his beer, playing on his phone, and yelling at a hockey game. I don’t think _he’s_ feeling very _Ho! Ho! Ho!_ right now.”

Tessa tips her head in thought.

“Maybe he just wants to get home for Christmas?” she says, feeling a tiny stab of guilt.

“ _Oh_ no,” Maddy says. “Don’t you go feeling sorry for the guy. He _takes_ these assignments because he’s well compensated for them. He’s just a big grouch who wants you to be aware of every minor inconvenience to his person.”

Tessa smiles, a little relieved by Maddy’s response.

“But what about you?” she says. “Don’t _you_ want to be home in time for Christmas?”

“Hey, with any luck,” Maddy says. “We do final wrap on Monday morning and I’ll be curling up by the metaphorical fire with Jenn by evening. _Or_ , we’ll just _skip_ the fire and head straight for dessert – I mean – we haven’t seen each other in six weeks.”

Tessa laughs.

“You want to head out?” Maddy asks.

“Yeah,” Tessa replies. “Let me just grab my purse.”

She heads back towards the chair she’d been sitting in earlier.

“Tyler, _where_ is your _hat_?”

“I don’t know.”

“It was _just_ here, where did you put it?”

“I _don’t_ know.”

“Dylan, do _not_ take those gloves off!”

Tessa smiles at the exchange - it can’t be easy trying to wrangle two kids together and get them out the door in any kind of hurry. She pulls her hair out from beneath her scarf and lets it fall across her shoulders before retrieving her purse - and spots a woolen hat lying against the leg of a coffee table.

“Here you go,” she says, walking over and holding it out in her hand.

The woman looks back at her in surprise.

“Oh,” she says. “Um… thank you.”

“No problem,” Tessa says, before catching up to Maddy by the door.

“Ready?” Maddy says.

Ready,” Tessa replies. “Let’s go carolling.”

* * *

 

“It’s a beautiful evening, here in Mistleton as townsfolk and visitors gather together to sing carols and give thanks for another year with friends and loved ones. People often bring blankets and picnic baskets so that they can spend the evening in the very best company. And if you stick around long enough tonight, we’ll be streaming live on Twitter and Instagram from the best Mistleton Christmas Party yet, with live music from the bandstand by Hamilton locals, Arkells! I can’t wait, and I hope you’ll be joining us as we dance the night away. I’m Tessa Virtue, live from Mistleton, Ontario.”

“And we’re out,” Maddy says. “The night is yours, Ms. Virtue. We’ll do a stream in an hour once the crowd pics up and then I’ll need you for the band around seven-thirty and then you can do… whatever it is your do when I’m not looking.”

“ _Maddy_ ,” Tessa says, her eyes rolling a little.

“Oh please,” Maddy says. “You’ve had a goofy smile on your face _all_ day.”

“I… have not.”

“It’s adorable you actually want to argue with me on this.”

_“Argue with you on what?”_

Tessa and Maddy turn toward the voice.

“Oh my God, Cara!” Tessa says.

“Hi!” Cara replies, leaping into Tessa’s space and pulling her into a hug.

“Scott said you were here, but I haven’t seen you,” Tessa says. “Maddy, this is Cara, Scott’s cousin.”

“Nice to meet you,” Maddy says.

“Likewise,” Cara replies. “And yeah, sorry, I’ve been manning the shop mostly and I suppose you’ve not had much call to broadcast about people getting their skates sharpened.”

Tessa laughs.

“It’s so great to see you,” she says.

“You too,” Cara replies, before turning her attention to Maddy. “So – uh – what is she arguing about?”

“That her smile isn’t goofy,” Maddy replies. “Or that it’s permanently fixed to her face.”

“Oh yeah,” Cara says, looking back to Tess, with a wink. “Yeah, y’know, it _kind_ of reminds me of the one my cousin’s wearing right about now… but I just figured he’d been in the eggnog.”

“Hm, “Maddy says, sweetly. “Well I don’t think _Tess_ has been near any eggnog recently…”

“Oh well,” Cara says, a teasing smile lighting her features. “Guess it must be something else then.”

“If you two are finished?” Tessa says, giving them both a look of mild exasperation.

“Honey,” Cara says, patting her gently on the shoulder. “I think we may just be getting started. Drink?”

“You read my mind,” Maddy replies.

“Between the two of us we should be able to pull something out of her,” Cara says.

“Scott didn’t say anything?” Tessa says, before realising her misstep.

“Say anything about what?” Cara replies.

“Um… nothing,” Tessa mumbles.

“This is going to be fun,” Maddy says.

“Actually,” Tessa says, waving across the square. “I’m just going to go say hi to Alma and Joe. I’ll catch up with you later?”

Maddy and Cara exchange a look.

“Don’t think we’re letting you weasel your way out of this,” Maddy says.

“Do you remember the part where I said Scott was off the table?” Tessa replies.

“I do,” Maddy says, acquiescing a little and gesturing for Tessa to be on her way.

Tessa turns to leave, making her way across the square toward the Moirs.

“Wait!” Maddy says. “So, if he’s off the table, does that mean, _you_ were on it?”

Cara laughs.

“Bye, Maddy!” Tessa says, not bothering to turn around - she didn’t exactly need them to see the warmth in her cheeks right now.

She holds up five fingers to Alma and Joe, thinking it might be best not to appear before them suddenly looking like she’s got the words _I made out with your son_ tattooed on her forehead. They nod their replies and Tessa ducks up the other end of Main Street, deciding now would be a very good time for a bathroom break.

She doesn’t mind the teasing – she and Jordan have often teased each other about their love lives and God knows she’s made some questionable choices in that department that she’d rather people not unearth. If people wanted to needle her about Scott, then so be it. It wasn’t a new thing as far as they were concerned, and they could barely move after their first Olympics without bumping into the suggestion that they were together, regardless of the fact that Scott has been dating someone else at the time. And no matter how much they’d denied it, people read into it the way they wanted to. She couldn’t help it then any more than she could help it now, so why bother? They didn’t _know_ anything, so she didn’t have to lie about it. All she has to do is make it to Christmas Eve, and all of this will go away. She’ll be back in Toronto with the show, people will move on with their lives, and Mistleton will be a memory once again.

And Scott?

Well…

_God, Scott._

She touches her fingers to her lips, the feel of him against them still present in her mind.

Could she really just leave him behind… again?

Could she really walk out back of this town as if this place meant nothing to her?

She’d spent so many years running from it, from one season of hurt, that she’d forgotten how much of her history is entwined along its shores. And however much she might not be ready to believe it, this place holds more of her heart than she’s ready to admit.

“Come on, come on, come on,” Tessa says, bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet.

_Why does the line to the Ladies always have to snake out the door?_

She shuffles along, staring at each cubicle and willing someone out whether they were finished in there or not.

Finally, someone saves her from embarrassment and she slips in and out in what she swears was far less time than anyone else.

There’s a young girl next to her already washing her hands and Tessa gives her a friendly smile.

“Hey, you’re that lady from TV,” she says.

“I’m Tessa,” she says, with a nod.

“I’m Isobel,” the girl replies. “I like your hair.”

“Thank you,” Tessa says. “That’s a great Christmas sweater you’re wearing.”

The girl rolls her eyes.

“It was my Mom’s idea,” Isobel says. “We _all_ had to wear one.”

 _“That is because it’s_ tradition _… oh, hi.”_

Tessa looks behind the girl’s reflection, to find – what must be – her mother coming up behind her. It’s the woman from the Inn.

“Hi,” Tessa says with a smile. “Nice to see you again. Do your boys still have all their things?”

“Uh, for the most part,” she replies. “Although the hat is gone again.”

Tessa laughs.

“Well, I guess you win some, you lose some.”

“Yeah.”

Tessa keeps the smile on her face but she’s pretty sure she’s struck a nerve.

“Mom, can I wait outside?”

“Sure, Izzy, your Dad’s waiting.”

“Okay, bye Tessa!”

“Goodbye, Isobel,” Tessa replies, before turning back to the mirror. “You have a beautiful daughter.”

“Oh… um… thanks.”

_Yep, definitely struck a nerve._

“How old is she?”

“Oh – uh – eight.”

Tessa nods, realising she doesn’t really have anywhere to go after that and the woman was clearly uncomfortable. If her daughter had seen her on TV, perhaps she had too. She probably just felt awkward mentioning it. The town itself had been pretty okay with her reasons for being here, but that didn’t mean everybody else had to be.

She heads out of the washroom, watching her step, when a pair of little legs runs toward her.

_“Dylan! Watch where you’re going!”_

Tessa dodges the kid, nearly losing her footing in the process.

“I’m so sorry, that’s my f… _Tessa_?”

She looks up at the voice, familiarity having tugged at her senses without being able to place it.

“Chris?”

“Hi – uh – how are you?”

“Um…”

Tessa searches for words – any words really – but they all seem to have left her.

_“Okay, honey, ready to head back?”_

Tessa turns toward the woman – quite obviously the mother of Chris’s children – while she waits for her brain to kick-start itself again.

“Uh, Tessa,” Chris says. “This is my wife, Amber.”

“Hi,” Tessa says, feeling like a complete moron.

“Hi again,” Amber replies, before turning to her husband. “We met in the washroom.”

“And – uh – these are our sons, Tyler and Dylan,” Chris says.

“Yes,” Tessa says, her brain finally assembling _some_ letters together. “I saw you playing a game together earlier at the Inn.”

“Minecraft,” Tyler says.

“Minecraft,” Tessa nods, as if this means anything to her.

“Hi, Tessa!” Isobel says.

“Hi, Isobel,” Tessa says, grateful she’s just churning out words at this point.

Chris smiles awkwardly, before shooting a sideways glance at his wife.

Tessa frowns, feeling like she’s missing something here.

It’s been years since she and Chris dated – another life really. They’d called it off sometime before her and Scott’s Mistleton Homecoming, but truth is it had been over long before that. He hadn’t even come to the Games. Sure, it had hurt when she’d come down off the high and registered that abandonment, but she got over it and she didn’t hold him moving on with his life against him. So why would he be…

Tessa looks from Chris to Amber, to Isobel.

“Oh,” she says.

* * *

 

Tessa sits on a stool at the counter, drizzling a copious amount of chocolate syrup onto her waffle. She stabs at the dough, pulling some onto her fork and running it through the ice-cream and bananas before shovelling it into her mouth. It’s way too much food for her but she doesn’t really care at this point - and nobody’s here anyway, except the guy holding the fort at Waffleton tonight. She takes three more mouthfuls before declaring a timeout – even _her_ sweet tooth was struggling to cope with the swirl of emotions currently bouncing across her stomach.

_“Mind if I sit?”_

Tessa looks up in surprise.

“Sure,” she says.

Chris sits down beside her.

“How’d you know I’d be here?” she asks.

“I figured it was either a bar, or breakfast food,” he says. “And I guess if you’re working you probably wouldn’t be drinking.”

Tessa nods, wiping the corner of her mouth with a napkin.

“I’m sorry,” Chris says. “That’s… certainly not how I would have wanted you to find out.”

“I already knew you got married, Chris,” she says, quietly. “It was in the community newsletter.”

“That’s… not what I meant,” he says.

She nods again. There isn’t really much to say and there’s nothing she really wants to either. What’s done is done, and if she could fix the past, then she would have focused that energy on repairing the damage to her family, and not on a relationship that wouldn’t have stood the test of time anyway.

“We – uh – met at uOttawa,” he says. “After you and I…”

“You really don’t have to explain, Chris,” she says.

“I feel like I need to.”

She sighs.

“Perhaps you should have explained it back _then_ ,” she says.

She’s not unkind about it, but she needs him to understand that he should have handled it – handled _them_ – better.

“Maybe I should have,” he says.

 _Maybe_ , she thinks. As if he was still in doubt.

“You didn’t stop seeing her,” she says.

It isn’t a question.

“I really thought we’d figure things out, Tess,” he says. “You and I… but… to be honest I thought Scott would have told you.”

She looks up at the mention of his name.

“Why would _Scott_ tell me?” she says.

“Because he came looking for me,” Chris says. “Asked if I was going to make it to your parade. Amber was nearly six months pregnant at the time, I just figured… Scott would have told you.”

She doesn’t think he’s doing it on purpose, shifting the blame to Scott, it was just his instinct in the end, to deflect responsibility and make it about somebody else.

“It wasn’t Scott’s job to tell me,” she says, making a point of looking at him.

“Yeah but -”

Tessa puts her palm up and shakes her head.

“You were in another relationship while _we_ were still in a relationship,” she says. “And if you had wanted to be honest about that, then you wouldn’t have expected someone else to relieve you of that burden.”

“Is that any different to you and _Scott_?” he says, a little heatedly.

“You know it is,” she says. “But I don’t suppose you want to hear that unless it absolves you of your guilt. Look, it was a long time ago, you have a family now, Chris, there’s no real reason to do anything but wish each other a Merry Christmas and leave it at that.”

Tessa checks her phone just as the door to the diner opens and she turns at the sound of the bell. She’d texted Maddy to let her know where she was, so she could find her before the Arkells’ set. She expects to see her producer standing behind her –

Instead, she finds Scott.

Chris thumps his fist against the countertop.

“Well, I guess that’s my cue,” he says.

“Nobody asked you to come here, Chris,” Scott says.

“And nobody asked you to break the code,” Chris replies. “But you had no problems with that, buddy, did you?”

“What are you talking about?” Scott says, his jaw ticking with tension.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” he replies.

Tessa looks between the two men, thinking it won’t end well if she lets this go on.

“Chris,” she says, suddenly feeling very tired. “Go home.”

Chris nods a couple of times, before zipping up his jacket, glancing back and forth between the two.

“Well… I guess _I_ was right all along,” he says, heading towards the door and brushing close to Scott a little more than was necessary. “Nice seeing you, Tess.”

And then he’s gone.

Scott looks back at Tessa. He looks guilty and confused all at the same time, and she thinks maybe going back to Toronto won’t be such a bad thing after all.

She sighs.

“I couldn’t lie to him,” she says.

He sits down on the stool Chris vacated and takes the fork from her plate, grabbing a bite of waffle as he does so.

“When we got back together,” she says. “I couldn’t lie to him. If we were going to make it work, I needed it to start in an honest place.”

“What – uh - what do you mean?” he says.

“You know what I mean, Scott,” she says. “He knew.”

* * *

 

  
**Mistleton, December 2008**

She pulls open the patio door and stares down at the hot tub, in amusement.

“Scott Moir, _what_ are you doing and _why_ are you doing it _here_?” Tessa asks, wrapping her gown around her a little more tightly in the cold.

Scott grins, scooping some water into his mouth and squirting it back out between his teeth.

Tessa raises an eyebrow.

He’s up to his neck in bubbles – her bubbles – and she doesn’t know how she feels about that.

“ _What_ was that?” he shouts, pressing the tips of his fingers against his ears.

She folds her arms and presses the button with her slipper, so that the jets slow to a gentle hum.

“I said, _why_ are you in my hot tub?”

Scott grins again.

“Technically, it’s your _parents’_ hot tub,” he says. “And they’ve always said I could use it anytime.”

“I’m pretty sure you have to ask first,” she says, dryly.

“Hey, I _did_ ask,” he says, raising himself out of the water a little so he can put his hands up in the air.

She tries not to look at his chest.

She’s seen him a thousand times of course, in various states of undress, but there’s something about seeing him in front of her, wet and glistening, when she was currently alone at the Lodge that has her thinking it would be inappropriate of her to stare.

He’s silent a minute and she’s forced to turn back to him.

Scott grins again.

“You can look if you want,” he says, with a twinkle in his eye.

“I would rather sniff your gear bag,” she says, airily.

He laughs and flicks water at her.

“Hey!” she says.

“Well, get in then,” he says. “I brought beer.”

She looks behind him - to the array of bottles lined up in the dusting of snow - and bites her lip.

“Come on, T,” he says. “Don’t make me drink alone.”

“Fine,” she says, kicking her slippers off and away from the tub, before unwrapping the belt of her gown.

“Atta girl,” he says, keeping his eyes on her as she lowers herself in. “Hey, I think we’re going for a Christmas theme here.”

“What?” she says.

He lifts himself out of the water once more and turns around, swinging his ass near her face. She moves out of the way just in time and rolls her eyes.

“Thank you… for that,” she says.

“Red shorts,” he says.

She looks down at her emerald bikini.

“Christmas,” she says, with a nod.

He smiles, clearly pleased she’s _not_ a simpleton.

“Want a beer?” he says.

“Sure,” she replies. “Why not?”

He cracks two open and passes one over before taking a swig of his own.

Tessa sips hers a little more slowly, relishing the adjustment to the water temperature.

“Did you really ask my parents?” she says.

“Yeah,” he replies.

“ _Really?_ ”

“Honest!” he says. “They said you would all be out here December 21st.”

“And Mom didn’t tell you I’d be here a day early?” she says. “For a little ‘me’ time?”

Scott hesitates. It’s barely a moment but a moment is all Tessa needs.

“Busted,” she says. “So, why are you really here?”

“Truth?”

“Always.”

“I just wanted to check in,” he says.

“Any particular reason?”

“Do I need one?”

“No,” she says. “But…”

There’s a lot she could say about it, but what good would it do? They were back on the ice and that’s all that mattered.

“Ah, yes,” he says. “I forgot, you _cherish_ these moments when we’re not together.”

He’s teasing her, but it stings, and she looks away for a minute, out into the evening.

“Did I say something wrong?” he says.

She couldn’t prevent the sudden droop in her shoulders and Scott had always been so in tune with her body.

“No,” she says.

“Tess?” he says. “Come on.”

She takes another sip of her beer.

“You’re just… such a… boy sometimes, Scott Moir.”

He looks taken aback at that and she wonders what quip he’ll come up with to counter the flatness of her insult. Something clever and witty, no doubt.

But he doesn’t say anything, just sips his own beer and looks at her.

“Are your legs okay?” he says, eventually. “I mean… since…”

“They’re fine,” she says, although she’s not so sure of herself.

The surgery was almost three months ago now and even though she’s back in training, she has no idea what it means for them or for any hope at future competition.

“I’m sorry about the Grand Prix,” she says, quietly.

He snorts, his breath landing on her exposed shoulder and rippling across her skin.

“Fuck the Grand Prix, Tess,” he says. “Marina would have sent me with a _sandbag_ if she could.”

Tessa giggles and she can see him out of the corner of her eye, looking pleased with himself for making her smile. She finds it endearing, even if she is still mad at him – them, really – for not talking for two months.

“Is that why you’re here?” she says, still laughing a little. “To tell me you’re thrilled I’m not a sandbag?”

He laughs, setting his beer down on the side and turning to face her.

“Actually, I came here to wish you a Merry Christmas,” he says.

“You did?” she says.

He nods.

“I know the Summer kind of sucked with Chris leaving and all and I just… I know I could have been more supportive after the surgery and I wasn’t… and I -”

“I didn’t want to bother you,” Tessa admits. “There was nothing you could do, and I didn’t want to make you feel bad about it.”

“I could have been a better friend, Tess,” he says. “That’s what I could have done.”

Tessa isn’t sure whether she means to her or to Chris, so she takes a long swig of beer to fill the silence, nearly choking on it as it goes down.

Scott laughs and catches the bit of liquid that spills out of her mouth and over her chin as she coughs.

“Easy there, T,” he says. “This is not a Canton party.”

She rubs the back of her hand against her mouth, knowing she must be turning fuchsia right now, and smiles with embarrassment. She watches as he licks his fingers – quite unconsciously – but it’s enough to send her cheeks directly to beet.

Scott looks at her with amusement.

“Something on your mind there, T?” he says. “Is the sight of my bare chest finally starting to have some effect on you?”

“I’m not into twelve-year-olds, thanks,” she says, sticking her nose in the air.

He laughs loudly.

“Touché!” he says.

She giggles again.

“You think you’re so funny, don’t you?” he says.

She nods.

“I _am_ funny,” she says, dipping down and smiling into the water, before flicking her fingers across the surface and sending a wave of water into his face.

“Hey!” he says, getting her back with a volley of his own.

She yelps and giggles, covering her hair as she tries to dodge the spray, but Scott has no such worries and leaps out of the water, wrapping her in those big arms of his and rendering her hairclip suddenly useless.

“You… are… im… possible!” she says, digging the pads of her fingers into his back, his side, anywhere she can reach really to regain the upper hand.

“What are you trying to do there, T?” he says, lifting her off the bottom and up into the air, the temperature suddenly blasting into her skin. “You’re like a cat over there.”

“Put me down, you ogre!” she laughs, changing tactics and digging her elbow into the soft skin between his shoulder and the base of his neck.

“Ow! Hey!” he cries. “Fine, if you wanna play dirty!”

He releases his grip and reaches for the space just above her bikini line. She anticipates the move – Scott of all people knows _exactly_ where she’d be the most sensitive – and tries to shimmy out of the way, but he’s strong and she’s laughing too much to really try and escape.

“Yeah, okay,” he says, in between her giggles. “ _Now_ , who’s winning?”

Tessa wraps her legs around his, shifting herself in closer so she can try and get at his hands. Scott’s laughing too so it isn’t hard to get in there and put her hands over his. She pushes at them, feeling them slow, feeling them cease, until the only movement between them is the heavy pace of their breathing causing their chests to rise and fall, and the jets sending their steady stream across the surface of the water.

By the time it occurs to her to look up, it’s too late for either of them.

He’s ridiculously close – have his eyelashes always been this long? – and she can feel the sweetness of his breath against her lips. If she moved – even just a little – they’d be…

She lowers her gaze, wondering why her fingers were suddenly tracing the ridge of his collarbone or why they were now making their way to the trio of freckles near the base of his neck.

If he’s wondering too, he sure as hell isn’t saying anything about it, which is slightly infuriating. Sure, he’ll push her buttons at practice, tease her about brushing his ass or looking at him with ‘bedroom’ eyes, but now? _Crickets._ He’s just staring right at her like he’s about to –

_Oh._

His lips move slowly against hers and she’s lost in it before she even has time to register what _it_ is. He tastes like beer and - waffles? – and she wraps her arms around his neck, pulling her into him, wanting to taste him even further.

His tongue slides into her mouth, his movements deliciously slow, and she wonders – vaguely – what she tastes like to him, before he increases his intensity, deepening their kiss and sends a heated ache right through her.

She gasps into his mouth, her response causing him to smile against her. She swats at his shoulder, the only argument she was going to make against him right now, anything more and he’d have to stop his urgent ministrations and she really couldn’t risk that right now.

His pelvis rocks against hers, and she can feel him through the fabric of his shorts. It wasn’t the first time they’d been pressed up together like this – the nature of their sport made it impossible to avoid – but the response in his body right now (and hers, if she’s honest) makes her wonder how they ever managed to hold back from taking things any further.

Although - judging by the current circumstances, maybe they hadn’t. Maybe they’d just been biding their time.

His fingers brush the tips of her breasts and it’s her turn to smile against him now. He grins, finally granting her breath as his lips mark a trail along her neck, coming to rest in the curve of her shoulder, as his tongue dips out to taste her. She bites her lip to stop the moan but it’s there all the same, as her back arches into him and her hips press firmly into his own.

Wrapping her arms around his neck, she rocks against him, waits for him to finish the explorations of her shoulder, before his lips find hers again and she answers with an urgency that begs no delay. She pushes at his shorts – just in case he hadn’t got the message – and there’s a moment where they lose contact with all but their lips. But then her hands find his shoulders again and she can feel him pulsing gently against the thin fabric of her bikini.

His finger traces a line from her breasts to her belly button and she looks down, mesmerised by its journey. His head rests against her temple, watching her watch him.

He pauses for a second, pressing his thumb against her belly ring, before his finger trails the lining of her swimsuit. He looks at her then, watching her face carefully for any signs of hesitation and she finds herself lost in that look, like the world didn’t matter. It was just them, and it was just this.

She keeps her eyes on his, closing them only briefly when his finger parts the fabric between them, pushing it away from her thigh. And when he enters her, a thousand walls crumble beneath them, and she is his just as much as he is hers. He buries his face in her neck, pulsing inside of her, setting her senses alight and her skin on fire. She looks up, out into the night, pulling him into her, urging him deeper - and she feels him respond, feels the heat of his intensity burning against her, pushing her over the edge and unravelling her piece by piece, every fibre of her being coming undone until all that was left was his name on her tongue, and the stars shining above them.

* * *

 

“ _Oh_ ,” Scott says.

Tessa huffs a laugh, twirling around on the stool to avoid looking at him.

“He never said anything,” Scott says. “Not even…”

“I asked him not to,” she says. “He told me that he had been seeing someone else but that it was over – obviously… that wasn’t entirely accurate – and in return I was honest with _him_.”

“What did you tell him?”

“That we were together – once – and after that we returned to competition and that was the end of it,” she says.

“Why didn’t you… tell me?”

“Why didn’t you tell me about the baby?” she replies.

“Honestly?” Scott says.

“That would be nice.”

“Because, I thought you had been hurt enough,” he says.

She tilts her head toward her shoulder and he does the same, awaiting her answer.

“Because I’d damaged your friendship enough,” she admits.

He sighs, heavily, rubbing his hands over his face and shaking his head.

“The deal you made,” he says.

“The deal was to give you a break,” she says. “To not use what I told him against you.”

“Tess, baby,” he says, and she starts at the way he says it so easily. “He would have held it against me regardless.”

“What do you mean?”

“You don’t… date your best friend’s sister or – anyone he’s related to really,” he says. “You don’t _think_ about what it’d be like to date their girlfriend… and you don’t have _sex_ with their _ex_ -girlfriends.”

Tessa bites her lip, looking down at her hands.

“We were… young, Scott.”

“Yeah,” he says. “I guess we were.”

She pulls the sleeve up on her sweater and checks her watch.

“Somewhere to be?” he says.

“I have to introduce Arkells soon,” she says.

“Okay,” he says. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you Chris was in town… I should have.”

“Yes, you should have,” she says. “I know you were trying to protect… I don’t know… something. But I’m a big girl and believe it or not I actually have bigger problems on my hands right now than a wayward ex-boyfriend who I honestly haven’t thought about in years.”

“Maybe if you just…”

“What?”

“I don’t know,” Scott says. “Have you ever just _talked_ to your Dad about any of this?”

“I _do_ talk to him, Scott,” she says, getting down off the stool and beginning to pace. “We’re not estranged, I still see him a couple of times a year. But that doesn’t _change_ what happened. It doesn’t _change_ the fact that he left, and it won’t _ever_ change the fact that I was so busy trying to be the very best in our sport, that I didn’t even see that my parent’s _marriage_ was falling apart!”

“I just meant… maybe he could give you some perspective,” Scott says. “Maybe help you deal with…”

“With what?” she says, irritably, folding her arms across her chest.

“With this whole… hating Christmas thing.”

“Well that would certainly work out well for _you_ , wouldn’t it?” she says.

“I’m sorry?”

“I guess it would make _you_ feel better about putting that _tree_ up every year.”

He recoils as if he’s been slapped and she instantly regrets it. She can feel the sting in her eyes and the prickle at her cheeks, and she covers her face with a hand, trying to erase her words.

“I’m sorry,” she says.

“It’s fine, Tess,” he replies, getting up out of his seat.

“No, Scott, it’s not,” she says, putting her hand against his chest to stop him from leaving. “I’m sorry, please… please don’t leave.”

She reaches up on the balls of her feet, pressing her temple against his, her hand coming around to cup the back of his neck.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers.

She feels an eternity pass before his hands find her hips and he pulls her into him, wrapping his arms around the small of her back, squeezing her gently.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, again.

He places a gentle kiss against her neck and she collapses into him, relieved. His arms are the only place she wants to be right now.

The bell sounds again, signalling that the door to the diner had swung open.

“Oh great, you’re both here,” Maddy says, marching toward them.

Cara was right on her heels.

“Is it that time already?” Tessa says.

“What?”

“Arkells?”

“Oh, right, yeah, we’ve got slightly bigger problems right now,” she says.

“What kind of problems?” Scott asks, and Tessa’s heart leaps at the way he steps out a little in front of her, as if he already wants to protect her from all of them.

Cara holds out her phone.

“By any chance,” she says, “Were the two of you alone last night? And by alone, I mean _together_ … in the dark… at the Lodge?”

Tessa frowns, looking to Scott for some clarity.

“Why?” he says.

Cara turns her phone toward them.

“ _That’s_ why.”

The picture is dark and a little blurred, but the image is undeniably them. She’s standing in front of him, her cheeks between his palms, her forehead resting against his.

“Where… where did you get this?” Tessa says.

“It’s all over the Internet,” Maddy tells her. “And Tess, it’s not the only one.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to be honest and say that Chris wasn't always a jerk. But I don't have the time to explore that backstory - it would take an entire prequel to do it - so really, he is what he is at this point. Plus this is Hallmark!verse so really, no one cares about the side-dish when we're all staring at the main course.
> 
> Anyway, I hope there are those still out there wanting to read this. I know the fandom's going down in flames right about now, so if there's anyone around, still getting lost in our morally questionable efforts to make ourselves feel better over here, I thank you. Let me know how you feel about it, if you can. 
> 
> Up next: Tessa tries to deal with those leaked photos, it's the day of the Mistleton Skate Carnival, and she'll have to decide, one way or another, whether she can really say goodbye to Scott again.


	10. Oh Little Town of Mistleton

“No, _Peter_. I _don’t_ think I’m overreacting, _thank you_. In _fact_ , I think I have been very civil about it up until this point!”

Tessa sits on Maddy’s bed, her back resting against the pillows, with her knees pulled up to her chest, watching her producer pace back and forth in front of the monitors. She can see Peter’s face looking out of one of them, in the other, Catherine’s – neither of whom look very happy to have been dragged out of bed in the middle of the night.

Cara is curled up in a chair, Scott balancing on the arm beside her, both watching the exchange.

“Maddy,” Peter says. “Could you lower the volume. _Please_. It’s late and I have a headache.”

“Oh, _I’m_ sorry, Peter,” she replies, not lowering it at all. “I’m _sorry_ that you’re having to suffer the _minor_ inconvenience of being awake right now while Tess has had to spend the last _four_ hours pretending to be _ecstatic_ about jumping up and down in the cold, before she could even have a goddamn emotional reaction to any of this!”

Tessa raises her eyebrows before shooting a quick glance at Scott. He looks slightly terrified by Maddy, and she can’t help but smile a little.

She watches Peter raise his arms in the air.

“It’s just – not exactly how I pictured ending my Saturday night,” he says.

“It’s Sunday now, Peter,” she says. “And at _least_ you’ll get to hang up from this conversation and avoid humanity through that device permanently attached to your fingers, but _I_ will no doubt have half the Moirs in the _province_ on my doorstep in a few hours asking me why I’ve repaid their kindness by turning this town into some sort of hotbed of gossip for their family, but stay pressed, I guess.”

Tessa leans her head back against the pile of pillows and closes her eyes – she’s too tired for this.

“Sorry, hi, excuse me,” Cara says, all eye turning towards her. “I know I’m new here but there’s a big skating carnival on today. One in which _these_ two -”

She flits her finger between Tessa and Scott.

-“have to skate. In order to do so, they will _actually_ need some sleep somewhere between now and then so if we could just… move this along… please?”

“Apologies,” Maddy says, letting out a long breath.

Cara waves a hand around, in acceptance.

“Maddy,” Catherine says. “I see what you’re saying here but correct me if I’m wrong, but this is a town that receives a lot of visitors this time of year, yes?”

Maddy looks to Scott and Cara for confirmation.

“True,” Cara says, while Scott nods.

“So, would it not be reasonable to assume that _anyone_ could have taken these pictures?” Catherine continues. “There has been a lot of public interest in both Tessa - and Scott - and pretty much every person and their _dog_ , knows where they are right now.”

Tessa can see Peter nodding from where she sits.

“Look, at the end of the day,” Peter says. “This only helps us. Ratings are through the roof, in fact, _more_ people are watching the show _now_ than they were before… I get that it’s a little inconvenient but -”

There’s a loud snore from the sofa and the entire room looks over at Steve, lying on his back, passed out, one arm drooping over the side. It could have been a trick of the light, but Tessa swears she saw Catherine roll her eyes.

“A little… inconvenient?” Maddy says, ignoring Steve.

She turns the third monitor around so that it’s facing Peter – so that he can see the spread of pictures they’ve all been looking at for the last few hours: Tessa standing on the Lodge porch, her face in Scott’s hands; Tessa and Scott through the window, decorating the tree; Scott wrapping a blanket around her shoulders, his hands on her arms; Scott taking her by the hand and leading her back inside…

She knows what it looks like… and she knows what people will assume.

“Peter, you’re missing the point,” Maddy says.

“Which is?” Peter says. “Look, I’m sorry Maddy but, it’s very dark, they’re taken from far away – they could be _anybody_ at this point.”

“But they’re _not_ anybody,” Maddy says. “And somebody would have to have been _following_ Tessa, at that time of night, to know she was there. I mean, please, God, tell me this wasn’t _us_?”

“Of _course_ not,” Catherine says, sharply. “We are not a gossip column for celebrity entertainment.”

“Well, whoever this was,” Maddy replies. “They weren’t messing around.”

“Actually,” Peter says. “I do agree with Maddy on this one.”

“What do you mean?” Scott says.

It’s the first time he’s spoken since they all arrived here.

“If it was just some passing tourist – or – even one that purposely followed either of you, they’d be releasing it to Instagram, to Twitter, Tumblr even,” he says. “That’s not the case here.”

Tessa sits up with interest.

“It’s not?” Scott says, getting up and walking over to the monitor to examine the pictures again.

Maddy shakes her head.

“I’m afraid not,” she says. “These were released straight to the media.”

“Meaning?” Scott says, his voice a little heated now.

“Meaning they were sold,” Tessa replies.

She massages her temple, trying to relieve it of the pressure that’s been building all night.

Scott walks over and sits beside her, placing his hand against the small of her back. It feels warm, and sure, and safe. She smiles, gratefully, pressing herself into the contact, before reaching back and taking her hand in his. He squeezes back, gently.

“And even though the lighting is terrible,” Maddy says. “That’s no cellphone camera they used.”

Tessa rubs at the corner of her eye, aching to take off her mascara.

“Okay,” Scott says. “So, what do we do about it?”

Maddy, Catherine, and Peter stare at him, none of them offering any answers.

Tessa sighs.

“Nothing,” she says. “We do nothing.”

“Nothing?” Scott says.

“Those pictures aren’t… they look worse than they actually are,” she says.

“Tess, you sure?” Maddy says.

Tessa shrugs, raising her free arm out to the side.

“Yes, it’s us,” she says, glancing at Scott. “But it’s all shadows and silhouettes at this point and… and it’s late, I’m tired, and I’d like to go bed.”

“It doesn’t bother you that someone invaded your privacy like that?” Scott says, pulling his hand away.

Tessa tries not to read too much into that.

“Of course, it bothers me,” she says, touching a finger to his arm in reassurance.

Scott closes her hand over hers once more and relief floods her senses.

“I just… I just think I can’t change what people are going to say about me – if there’s anything this entire experience has taught me, it’s _that_.”

“Say nothing,” Maddy says, rolling the thought around in her mind. “That could work.”

“Two days left of the show,” Catherine says, following Maddy’s wavelength. “Then it’s Christmas and everybody’s too busy arguing with their families to care very much about anything else… I agree.”

“Okay then and… I will… say we’re unavailable for comment,” Peter says.

“Are you okay with that?” Tessa says, turning to Scott.

“If that’s what you want, Tess,” he says. “I’m good with that.”

“Fantastic,” Catherine says. “Thank you, Mr. Moir, for being so understanding, I know this is inconvenient for you but look at it this way, in two days, she’s out of your hair and you get to go on with your life!”

Tessa swallows, her throat suddenly heavy with weighted emotion.

Scott is no longer looking at her and the sudden absence of his hand in hers, cuts through like a knife.  
  


* * *

 

“Good morning from Mistleton Ontario. I’m Tessa Virtue -”

“And I’m Scott Moir.”

“And we’re live from the Mistleton Skating Club.”

“In just a few short hours, the Christmas Carnival gets under way -”

“Yes, all may not be so calm right now.”

“But later, it will certainly be bright.”

“Join us for the live stream at 3 pm today, it’s going to be a wonderful show for the whole family.”

“And – you guessed it – Tess and I _will_ be skating together…”

“It’s been a while…”

“So, please don’t laugh if we fall on our faces!”

“Is it okay if _I_ laugh?”

“Yes, that’s okay. Just so long as nobody else does!”

“I’m not sure how we’ll work that out, Scott, but we can give it a try.”

“Just distract them with those angelic features of yours and we’ll be fine.”

“I’ll try!”

“She’s going to look beautiful folks.”

“I’m not sure about that, but hopefully our skating will speak for itself, and the beautiful notes and lyrics of _Oh Holy Night_ will touch you in the same way that it touched us.”

“Until then, wherever you are, have a wonderful day and we’ll see _you_ later!”  
  


* * *

 

“Thanks for doing this, this morning,” she says, once Maddy and Steve are out of earshot, packing away.

“No problem,” Scott says, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. “I always said I was happy to help.”

“Scott…”

He sighs.

“Look, Tess, I always knew this was coming okay?” he says. “I knew the minute you came to town that you’d do your show and leave.”

“You… _wow_ ,” she says.

She bites her lip and turns, walking away from the boards and heading for the tunnel.

“Tess, wait,” he says, jogging after her.

She takes a left, away from the entrance to the club. There aren’t many people about, but she’d like some privacy all the same. She throws open the door to the locker room, knowing he’s right behind her, and lets it fall back and close in Scott’s face anyway.

“Hey,” he says, gently. “How am I supposed to look pretty tonight, if you’re slamming doors in my face?”

She doesn’t turn around – just keeps taking little steps with her hands on her hips.

“I didn’t… I didn’t mean it like…” he says, coming up behind her but still keeping some distance between them. “I just meant… I don’t know, maybe I did mean it like that.”

Tessa wipes at her cheek with the back of her hand and turns to face him. She can see his distress, can see him realising just how much he’s hurt her, but she’s not ready to cut him much slack about it yet.

“I don’t want you to leave.”

He says it quietly – so quietly that for a second, she thinks she’s misheard.

“Scott…”

“I know your job’s there,” he says. “In Toronto. And I would never… ever… want to take any of that away from you. You deserve it. You deserve… everything. But I don’t think I can say goodbye to you again. Look, I don’t know what’s happening, I don’t know what this is, I just… Jesus my heart’s beating really fast here.”

Tessa smiles.

“Come here,” she says.

“What?” he says, evidently confused that she’s not about to throw him under a bus here.

“Come here.”

She takes his hand, guiding him towards her, before wrapping her arms beneath his, her chest pressing against him. They haven’t stood this way together – heart to heart – in over four years, but the contact is more than enough to melt all that time away.

It’s true – his heart _is_ pounding, it’s tempo drumming straight through his chest and right into hers. She lets him drop into her neck, lets him be where he needs to be, while her heart sorts out his, bringing him down from it, getting his rhythm in line with hers.

She has no real awareness of time passing, her sense narrowing to just the feel of him as his pulse steadies, and she can no longer distinguish between her beat and his.

And it feels so goddamn good.

There’s a commotion in the hallway – excited yelps and shrieking – but it’s nothing to do with them and she’s not about to break this contact for all the lights in Mistleton (of which there are quite a lot).

_  
“I can’t believe it!”_

_“_ Look _at you!”_

 _“Look at_ you _!”_

_“That beautiful face!”_

_“How_ are _you?”_

 _“So good, thank you. How are_ you _? How’s Joe?”_

_“He’s good! Jordan! Just look at you, you are a princess! Are you here for the carnival?”_

_  
_ “Is that your sister?” Scott whispers.

“ _Oh_ yeah,” Tessa replies.

The door to the locker room bursts open.

“Surprise!” Jordan yells. “Quit canoodling and tell us which seats are going to give us the best view, so I can stick up some _reserved_ signs.”

Tessa and Scott break away, albeit reluctantly – she’s relieved he doesn’t step back though, keeping her in his space.

“What are you guys doing here?” Tessa asks.

“We’re here to watch you skate, you _bean_ ,” Jordan says.

“We could never have missed that,” their mother says, coming up behind Jordan, and putting a hand on Scott’s cheek. “And we wanted to support you both. Hello, Scott.”

“Hi, Kate,” Scott replies, warmly. “It’s good to see you.”

“And you,” she says, with genuine affection.

“Hey, Ma,” Scott says, smiling at his mother standing in the doorway.

“Hello, son,” Alma replies. “Your father said to let you know that if you need to bury a body later, he’s moved the shovels to the garage.”

“Duly noted,” Scott says.

“Need a hand?” Jordan says.

Tessa raises her eyebrows.

“We saw the pictures,” Jordan says, by way of explanation.

Tessa lowers her gaze, feeling her cheeks start to burn.

“Oh good,” Jordan says. “I see we’re making progress talking about our feelings and stuff.”

“ _Jo_ ,” Tessa says.

“Hi, Scott!” Jordan says, brightly.

“Hi, Jordan.”

“You know, you look better on TV, right?”

Scott grins.

“It’s good to see you too,” he says, wrapping her in a hug.

Tessa smiles, trying to ignore the barrage of emotions pummelling through her right now at the sight of her family – and his – being in the same place.

“How are you holding up, hon?” Kate Virtue says, softly.

Tessa nods.

“I’m fine.”

“Have they found who took those pictures yet?” Alma asks, frowning in disapproval.

“No,” Tess replies, with a shake of her head. “But it could be anyone at this point and really… I don’t want to focus on that when there are more important things right now.”

She smiles at Scott, who smiles right back, and her heart skips several beats in response. Whatever it was he was doing to her, she sure as hell hoped it never stopped.

“How about a late brunch, then?” Alma says.

“That would be wonderful,” Kate replies.

“Actually, Scott and I have a final tech rehearsal,” Tessa says. “But we can come after?”

“Oh, _we_ can, can _we_?” Jordan says, with a wink.

Scott chuckles and Tessa gives him a look.

“You’re _not_ helping,” she tells him.

“What did _I_ do?” he says.

She lowers her eyes at him.

“Get your skates on, buddy, or _I’ll_ be the one grabbing a shovel tonight.”  
  


* * *

 

The lights in the arena are low.

He can feel her breath on his skin while they wait.

There’s a crowd all around them, cameras everywhere -

but she’s all he sees.

 

She’s all he wants to see.

 

There’s a single spot, a lone shaft of light descending and she’s an angel he can’t look away from – calling to him, guiding him, drawing him towards her.

Ethereal doesn’t even begin to describe her.

He celebrates the news she brings –

and she follows

as he shares his light with her,

his joy,

his freedom,

as they shine into the night.

He knows the song, knows it’s about so much more than him or her, but he can’t help but feel that a song about hope and miracles can lend meaning to them right here, right now, in this place and on this night.

There is emotion in every breath, every movement, every out-stretched hand between them, and she is the angel’s voice –

she’s _his_ voice,

his hope, his divine.

She’s in his arms again and there’s nothing else,

there’s no one else.

It’s him and it’s her and the beat of his heart and her breath on his cheek and he’s home…

She’s come home.

Every touch is for them,

cherished and sacred,

he belongs only to her…

… and she to him

As they find their way back to each other…

find peace…

here in Mistelton.

On the ice they call home.  
  


* * *

 

“You okay over there?” he says, cocking his head at her.

“I’m sorry?” she says.

Scott chuckles.

“You haven’t said a _word_ the whole drive home.”

She looks up, suddenly, surprised to seem them parked in the driveway in front of Scott’s house.

“Relax, kiddo” he says. “We weren’t followed.”

Tessa blinks.

“That’s not what I was…”

She laughs.

“I’m sorry,” she says. “I’m _obviously_ having a moment.”

“It’s alright, Tess,” he says, reaching out and giving her hand a squeeze. “I know how hard it must be to… y’know…”

“What?” she says.

“Contain yourself… in front of yours truly,” he replies.

She laughs, wrinkling her nose at him.

“You are _not_ all that!” she says.

He clutches at his chest, in mock offence.

“And _there_ I was, thinking that I had at least _some_ effect on you,” he says.

“You do,” Tessa replies, stepping out of the car.

“I do?” he says, grinning from the other side.

“Yes,” she says. “ _Reflux_.”

She joins him as they head up the steps and onto the porch, laughing as he wraps an arm around her shoulder and pulls her into him.

“Be nice,” he says. “Or no cookies for you.”

“If these are the same cookies that were in your _pants_ the other day, then we do _not_ have a problem,” she says.

“Once again,” he says, tipping her chin with his finger and brushing her lips with his. “You think you’re _so_ funny.”

“I _am_ funny,” she whispers, smiling against him.

She waits for him to unlock the door and follows him inside.

“It’s so quiet out here,” she says.

“Advantages to living in the middle of nowhere,” he says. “I guess it’s very different from Toronto, eh?”

She nods.

“Yes,” she says. “You’ve done a great job with this place – I like the extension.”

“Thanks,” he says. “I’m pretty proud of it.”

“You should be,” she says, with a smile, her eyes meeting his.

“You – uh – want to grab something to eat while I change?” he asks. “I don’t know what time Ma’s serving food, so it might be a while.”

Tessa shakes her head.

“No, I can wait,” she says.

“Okay, I’ll be back in a minute,” he says.

“Scott?”

“Yeah?”

“I just wanted you to know that… skating again tonight… with you… it was…”

She steps toward him, her mind searching for any words that could measure against what she’d felt on the ice. But he steps into her, his mouth silencing the need, and she melts into his kiss, giving herself over to him, their lips saying more than words ever could.

When they break apart, she’s breathless and flushed, but his smile lights her whole world and there’s nothing more she wants than for him to make her feel that way again.

His hand is in hers, his thumb circling her skin… and there’s something in his eyes - a question? Hope?

“Tess,” he whispers, leaning in towards her.

She presses a finger against his lips, pulling back just a little.

There’s confusion in his eyes and she can see his mind working, wondering if he’d misread the moment entirely.

But she tugs gently at his hand, beckoning him to follow, and leads him up the stairs.  
  


* * *

 

The Moir household is in full swing and Scott’s torn between enjoying the atmosphere and festivities - and wanting Tessa all to himself again. Since their arrival, they’ve conquered and divided (by mutual decision) but his eyes keep finding hers across the crowded room and he’s pretty damn sure she’s thinking _exactly_ what _he’s_ thinking.

He catches her looking at him, standing in a group with Jordan and his brothers and watches the way she turns her body away from them, shielding them all from the smile she can’t help. He grins, sending her a wink in return before ducking out into the kitchen for a breather. They still had a few hours yet and there wasn’t anywhere in this house they could likely escape to right now, without anyone coming and looking for them.

He’d just have to bide his time until he could hold her in his arms once more.

“Hi, Scott.”

“Hey, Maddy,” he says. “Fancy seeing you here.”

She grins.

“You mother asked me if I wouldn’t mind taking some pictures,” she says, patting the camera around her neck.

“Of the kitchen?”

“This is where the _food_ is,” she says.

Scott nods in understanding.

“I’ve barely eaten today, and I’m just dangerously attracted to these mince pies, right now,” she adds. “Jenn will be so jealous.”

Scott laughs.

“Want me to grab a picture?” he says. “You could send it to her later?”

“Do you mind?”

“Not at all,” he replies, taking the camera from her. “Wow, this is a doozy.”

“Yeah, we use it for stills. Just push the shutter half-way and it’ll focus,” she says, lining herself into a pose and dangling the mince pie inches from her lips.

Scott takes the picture and hands the camera back to her.

“Might want to check it,” he says. “Just in case.”

Maddy swivels the screen towards her and laughs.

“Oh my God, this is great,” she says. “I can’t wait to send it to Jenn.”

“Glad I could help,” Scott says. “I’m gonna head back, let me know if you need anything else.”

“I will, thank you,” she says, still looking at the camera. “There are so many great pictures from this afternoon, I can’t wait to show… Scott?”

He pauses at the door, the sharpness in her voice causing him to turn around.

“You alright?”

She looks up in alarm and he heads over to where she’s standing. Maddy turns the screen so that he can see it.

It’s a picture of him and Tessa - and Chris - in the diner. Maddy keeps on pressing the dial, a series of images flashing in front of them. Scott looks away, he doesn’t need to see them all, he’s seen enough to know that the person taking them was trying to capture a story worth selling.

“Shit,” Maddy says.

Scott can’t help but follow her gaze.

“Whose camera is this,” he says quietly, his eyes travelling over the image of him and Tess, sitting down by the lake.

Maddy sighs.

“It’s the network’s,” she says. “But if we wanna be more specific about who’s responsible for it… it’s Steve.”  
  


* * *

 

Tessa steps out into the night, wrapping her shawl around her shoulders and breathing in the crisp, clean air of Mistleton. Two weeks ago, she never could have imagined the effect this place would have on her - and now, try as she might, she’d never be able to escape the pull of this town ever again.

She loves Toronto.

She loves her job.

But she can’t ignore what’s happening to her here.

She’d closed the door on a lot of things the day she left Mistleton, things she thought that she could live without if it would protect her from remembering the hurt. But she hadn’t realised, until she came back here, just how much that running had cost her. She could have had him – Scott – she realises that now, realises that in opening up that side of herself, she’s unlocked a future she can’t imagine not having.

She loves him.

She knows that now, knows that their shared experience meant they came to define loving each other in so many different ways, but in doing so, she’d somehow missed the part where she was _in_ love with him.

She couldn’t leave that behind again – leave _him_. And maybe coming back here was never _about_ finding Christmas at all. Maybe it was about holding on… and letting go.

She heads down the drive, wanting to feel the crunch of fresh snow beneath her boots. She waves to the neighbours heading in her direction, clearly popping in to the Moir’s for a nightcap.

“Have a great time!” she says, laughing as a wayward snowflake hits her eye.

She blinks it away, loving the feeling building inside her, longing for the moment when she could take Scott’s hand in hers once more, wanting to tell him how much he means to her, that Toronto’s only an hour away, that she was in, she was _all-in_ , if he wanted her, if he could –

_“Hello Tess.”_

She stops dead – her heart leaping into her throat, pulsing through her ears and drowning all else. She can feel her surprise, her anxiety, her fears already chipping away at the euphoria she’d felt just moments earlier, and all she can do is look up and face them.

 

“Dad,” she replies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> must. stop. with. the. cliffhangers!
> 
> I really wanted to get this out to you yesterday but I finished it late and I don't like posting when I'm tired because I know I miss way more errors that way.
> 
> A very Merry Christmas to you all - and only two more chapters to go!!!
> 
> Up next: We finally dive in to that Christmas four years ago, when Tessa's world crumbled away. We find out what happened that Christmas Eve between Tessa and Scott. And back in the present, Tessa has to decide if she can make peace with all of that... one thing's for sure... there's no easy path to it.


	11. Jingle Bell Shock

**Mistleton, December 5 th, 2014**

 

“What do you mean, you’re getting a divorce?”

Kate Virtue smiles bravely at her daughters, but her eyes are pooled with sadness.

Tessa sits on the sofa next to Jordan, trying to process her mother’s words, while her sister plays with the hem on her sweater.

She looks around the room – to the recently unwrapped Christmas Tree standing over in the corner, just waiting for them; to the boxes of decorations piled up next to the fireplace; garlands untangled and scattered across the floor; the wreathe laid out on the coffee table, ready to be hung – and plays her mother’s words over in her mind again.

All she’d done was ask when Dad was getting here.

She’d unwrapped the tree – with Jordan’s assistance – and they’d dug out the boxes from the attic, dragged them downstairs, uncorked the wine, and turned on the television, thumbing through the channels until they found a station playing carols.

Sure, their brothers wouldn’t be here – they lived too far away just to make a trip to the Lodge to decorate the tree - but that was okay, they’d be here for the Virtue holiday get-together closer to Christmas. She’d still have fun with Jo, and her Mom would bake a pie, while her Dad would try to help by eating most of the filling before it could be put inside. They’d laugh, and they’d sing, and maybe head into town later and watch the Christmas lights going up.

At least, that was what she’d thought would happen.

But this?

Nothing could ever have prepared her for the way her mother grasped her cheeks, trying to stem Tessa’s exuberance, before hitting them with a bombshell that would rip through Tessa’s psyche and have a knock-on effect that would take her years to fully realise.

Well, hit _her_ with a bombshell.

Jordan is playing with her hands, nodding tightly, resignedly. It’s not as much of a surprise to her, Tessa thinks.

“How… what…”

But she doesn’t really have the words, which says a lot, for her.

“Your father hasn’t been…”

She watches as her mother searches equally, trying to soften a blow that would hit her full-force, no matter the combination of tone and phrase.

“He hasn’t been home in a while, sweetheart,” Kate says.

The nail to her chest gets hammered in further.

“What do you mean, he hasn’t been _home_?” Jordan says, and Tessa’s at least relieved that her sister doesn’t know all of the details.

“We decided to spend some time apart,” their mother tells them.  “To see if we could fix things but… girls, it just wasn’t working.”

“How on _earth_ do you expect to fix things when you’re _apart_?” Tessa says, not bothering to disguise the anger in voice.

“Tess,” Jordan says.

Kate Virtue stands up and moves over to the sofa, burrowing her way between them, and putting a hand on each of their knees.

“We tried for a while, Tess,” she says, looking between her and Jordan.

“How long’s a while?” she replies.

“Truth is, we haven’t been in a good place all year,” she says.

“All… _year_?” she replies.

“We wanted to try but… your Dad… he found it easier to be away.”

“How did I… how did…”

“You’ve had a crazy year, yourself, baby girl,” her mother says. “The Olympics, tours, endorsements, deciding to go back to school – you’ve barely had a minute to yourself.”

It does nothing to soften the blow of not realising that her parents had drifted apart.

“He’s seeing someone else, isn’t he?” Jordan says.

Tessa doesn’t ask how she knows this.

“Only recently, yes,” Kate says. “But it’s very new, and your father and I have been over for a while.”

“What’s a _while_?” Tessa says.

“Tess,” Jordan says, again.

“No, I want to know what a _while_ is!” she says, getting to her feet. “We’ve just found out that our _parents_ are getting a divorce, that he’s _seeing_ someone, and he’s _obviously_ not coming tonight because he’s left Mom to do this alone. I think I’d like to know _when_ this all _happened_!”

Kate looks at her, despairingly, and Tessa instantly regrets the severity of her words.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers. “I didn’t mean…”

Her mother stands, wrapping her in a hug so deep, she never wants to be let out of it. Tessa can feel the sting of tears behind her eyes as the weight of her sadness begins to lodge in her throat.

But the tears don’t fall.

Her mother’s do – and Jordan’s – but Tessa has had too much practice at masking disappointment to let it all out. She clings to them both, her body fighting against an emotion she can’t process, refusing a future that didn’t include her family happy, and whole. She had already faced the uncertainty of life without Scott, separation via retirement being inevitable, she wasn’t sure she could handle another loss like that.

She waits for the last of their tears to fall, watches as her mother straightens herself up, brushes beneath her eyes and smiles brightly, as if she hasn’t just told them that life as they know it is changing, before clapping her hands together.

“Right, let’s tackle that tree, shall we?” she says. “Why don’t you girls start, and I’ll get the pie on?”

Tessa does as she’s asked – for want of something better to do – opening up the first box of decorations while Jordan grabs the lights.

She moves the lid to the side, examining the contents within before opening a second box, looking for the larger ornaments first. Her eyes fall on a smaller box within and she lifts it out carefully, before setting it down. She knows what’s inside – Kevin, Casey, Jordan, herself – they all have one.

She reaches inside, her fingers moving carefully over the ornaments within. It hadn’t been as big a deal to her brothers, she thinks. Casey had already moved away from home and Kevin was too busy trying to impress girls, to worry about hanging out with his parents and younger sisters.

But their father had hustled them both into town, the Christmas after she’d turned twelve. She’d been training in Kitchener with Scott, and it was her first time home in a while. They’d all gone to the Fair in Mistleton, one evening in late December to take in the sights, sample some treats, and join in with some of the festivities.

She’d found Scott on the ice, their mothers already reaching for a camera as they attempted to persuade the two of them to “show them a few moves”.  Jordan had made a crack about keeping an eye on Scott before he could even attempt to get her into a dance hold and she’d watched as the colour crept into his cheeks before turning to glare at her sister.

Later, she’d walked with her father among the stalls as they waited for her mother and Jordan to get back from the washroom. He’d been eyeing some of the ornaments, picking them up, examining them, setting them back down and she’d been happy enough to follow.

“What do you think of this one, Tess?” he’d said, holding up a laughing Santa. “This one is very Kevin, don’t you think?”

Tessa had watched as he held up several others, declaring them to be ‘Casey’ and ‘Jordan’. He’d handed them over to be wrapped, strolling up and down among the rows, making little sing-song noises to himself.

And then he’d stopped – and held up a pair of ceramic turtle doves, joined by a single ribbon at the top.

“This is definitely you,” he’d said.

Tessa had frowned, not quite making the connection.

“How is that me?” she’d asked, curiously.

He’d pointed to the first bird, and then the other.

“It’s you and Scott, see?” he’d said with a chuckle.

She’d frowned even more, still not getting it.

Her father had patted her head, adding the ornament to his pile of purchases.

“You always come as a pair,” he’d said.

She’d never told Scott, although by the time she’d turned fifteen, every single one of her siblings _had_.

She’d been mortified – particularly as Scott already knew she hung it on the tree each year. He was seventeen at the time and well into his phase of finding her increasingly annoying, and she couldn’t look him in the eye for weeks after that.

Marina has nearly murdered them both.

Tessa picks up the pair of turtle doves, letting them hang over her finger, wondering if she could put them on the tree this year knowing that everything she’d ever known to be true, to be constant, was already crumbling to dust.

* * *

 

**Mistleton, Present Day**

“Dad,” Tessa says.

“Hi, honey,” he replies. “How are you?”

Tessa shakes her head, trying to clear the sudden confusion beginning to cloud her mind.

“What are you… what are you doing here?”

Jim Virtue smiles, stepping forward with a nervous hesitance that doesn’t gain him much ground.

“I – um…”

She feels a little sorry for him, realising it must be weird for him to be standing here at the bottom of the Moir’s drive – a place he’d been to hundreds of times and yet, a place where he would now probably question his welcome.

Tessa readjusts the shawl around her shoulders and waits for his answer.

“I’ve been watching the show,” he says, finally.

“Oh,” she says, simply for something to say.

She watches her father bob up and down on the balls of his feet, his expression and his body language asking her to make this easy on him, when she’s not entirely sure why he came all this way to tell her that. He knows where she lives, or he could have picked up the phone.

“I’m sorry, Dad,” she says. “Is that what you came here to say? That… that you watch the show?”

“No, Tess,” he says. “I… I often watch the show. It’s better now, I think… now that that Gold guy is gone.”

Tessa nods.

“I kept thinking they were going to bring in a new guy for you but… it works,” he says. “It must be strange being solo – you always were a ‘work with a partner’ kind of girl.”

“Dad,” Tessa says, gently but firmly. “Why are you _here_? In _Mistleton_?”

“I saw the show… the – uh – the whole tree… ornament… fiasco,” he says, awkwardly, not quite meeting her eye.

“You and the whole country,” she replies, with a self-deprecating laugh.

“Right,” he says. “Well, I couldn’t help but feel… responsible… for all this. For you being here, I mean.”

Tessa looks away.

“I never… I mean… I didn’t realise how much all this effected you,” he says. “You never said anything, you never…”

“It wouldn’t have changed anything,” she replies.

“I know but… honey, I never meant for my leaving to cause all this,” he continues. “Until I saw you here on TV a couple of days ago doing the… the _Finding Christmas_ thing, I hadn’t realised that you’d never been back here, that your mother and I getting a divorce made you feel like you needed to run away from this place, from your friends.”

“Wait,” Tess says. “You only saw the show a few _days_ ago?”

“Well, no,” he amends. “I saw the incident in Toronto, but we’ve been away for a bit, and when I got back, I tuned in and then Scott called and he -”

“Wait, whoa!” she says. “ _What_?”

Her father hesitates, trying to get a read on her tone.

“Well, Scott called and he -”

“Scott… _called_?” she says, as if hearing it twice now from Jim Virtue wasn’t quite enough to make her hear it correctly.

_“Tess.”_

She turns at his voice, watches Scott jogging towards her in the snow, as her veins turn to ice.

He looks about as helpless as her father does right now and it does nothing to endear either one of them to her.

“You… you called my _Dad_?” she says.

Scott looks to Jim, clearly hoping that between them they could salvage this.

“I invited him,” Scott says.

“You _what_?” she says, unable to mask the hurt welling within her.

“I couldn’t make it earlier to the carnival,” her father says. “I wasn’t sure I could get down here at all but – Scott said there may be some things we need to work out and -”

Tessa is already walking away.

“Tess!” Scott says.

“Honey,” Jim says. “He was only trying to help.”

Tessa rounds on them both but it’s Scott she faces.

“I didn’t _ask_ for your help!”

“Tess, come on,” Scott says, reaching for her elbow.

She pulls away from his touch, marching back towards the house as quickly as she can over the snow.

“Tess!” he calls again.

She barrels her way into the house, grabbing her coat and her purse before anyone can stop her.

“Is everything alright?” Maddy says, walking into the entryway with a camera in her hands.

“No,” Tessa says. “I need your keys.”

“Tess,” she says. “What’s wrong?”

“Maddy, I just need your keys right now,” she says.

“Of course,” Maddy replies, reaching into her jacket and handing them over.

“Thank you,” Tessa says. “My Mom can give you a ride back to the Inn.”

“Tess, are you okay?” she says, as both Scott and Jim come through the door. “If this is about Steve, don’t worry I’m on it.”

“Tess,” Scott says.

“Steve?” Tessa says, ignoring him. “Why would I be worried about Steve?”

“Well because -”

“Tess, we _have_ to talk,” Scott says.

“No, we _don’t_ ,” she says, walking straight through the middle of them and out the door.

“Tess!” he says, again, as she storms down the path. “At least let me drive you!”

Tessa keeps on going, not bothering to turn around.

“ _Don’t_ you think you’ve done enough?” she replies.

* * *

 

**Mistleton, December 24 th, 2014**

 

“Hey.”

“Hey,” she says, clearly surprised to see him.

Her voice is thick, her eyes are red, and honestly? He can count on his fingers the amount of times he’s seen her like this.

Here was a woman who’s competed at the top of her sport, under intense pressure, having had her body, her diet, her personality, scrutinised and dissected by judges, by coaches, by the public. She’d endured unspeakable agony when her legs could no longer keep up with the intensity of their training. Twice, she’d undergone surgery. Twice, she’d relearned how to walk, how to skate, just to keep on competing with him. She’d never complained, never once felt sorry for herself, and in all the time he’s known her – in _seventeen years_ of knowing – he’s not sure he’s seen her so utterly spent.

Scott sits down beside her, on the steps to Virtue Lodge, suddenly unsure of himself.

He’d come here to… to what?

To tell her not to go? To tell her he needs her? To tell he’s in love with her and wreck over six-thousand days spent with her, pretending that’s he’s not? When she knows he’s a mess? When she knows he hasn’t exactly kept up his end of the bargain as far as staying in touch is concerned? When she _must_ be aware that while she was starting a jewelry line and receiving endorsements from _Bonlook_ and _Adidas_ , he was drowning his sorrows in the bottom of a glass, wondering what the hell to do with his life.

“What are you doing here?” she says, the small smile she gives him lighting his whole damn world.

Does he tell her he misses her? Every goddamn day?

Does he risk it all? Does he dare the universe not to put him first?

“Truth is,” he says. “I – uh – just wanted to see if I could catch you naked in the tub.”

She looks at him and for a second, he thinks he’s lost her.

But then she laughs; her left eye crinkling as her shoulders roll forward.

He tries not to look too pleased with himself.

“I’m sorry to disappoint you,” she says, softly, leaning into him.

“Tess,” he says, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. “You have never disappointed me a day in your life.”

She pats her hand against his chest and he reaches out to grab it, keeping her there.

“Hey, you want to go inside?” he says. “Make some hot chocolate? Warm me up a little?”

She sniffs.

“I don’t think we have any,” she says.

“No hot chocolate?” he says. “At the _Virtues_?”

“Sorry,” she replies. “We haven’t stocked the pantry because… because we’re not spending Christmas here this year.”

“My Mom told me what happened,” Scott says. “I’m sorry, T.”

She nods.

“She said… she said you were leaving.”

“Yeah, I… it just makes sense y’know?”

 _No_ , he thinks. _It doesn’t._

“I’m already studying in Toronto,” she says. “It just… it makes sense to move. I mean _we’re_ not skating anymore, my mom’s sold the house, it just… what else is there?”

 _Me_ , he thinks.

“Yeah, for sure,” he says.

He looks out into the darkness of the evening, suddenly grateful she can’t see his eyes.

“What classes are you taking?” he says, thinking if he can just keep her talking, then he doesn’t have to face the inevitable.

“Journalism,” she says, shooting a quick glance of uncertainty at him. “I know. Me. But I’ve had a couple of offers to present and I just feel… I’d like to _actually_ know what I’m doing. It’s so new… I know, probably sounds… crazy.”

“No, no,” he says. “I think it’s great!”

“Yeah?”

“I mean, you look the part!” he says.

“Really?” she replies.

“Yeah,” he says. “And hey, when you get that second book deal you can credit _me_ for helping you relax around the media… _and_ for your smile.”

She whacks him gently on the arm.

“Hey, smack me all you want but you’re still smiling,” he says.

She laughs again.

“What am I going to do with you, Scott Moir?” she says.

_I could think of a few things._

“You could… share my Timbits with me?” he says. “I’ve got some in the car.”

“How long have they been in there?” she says, sceptically.

He laughs.

“I just picked them up,” he says. “Honest!”

She smiles.

“Okay,” she says.

“Okay?”

“Sure,” she says. “But I’m going to call the Timmie’s and check you were there, first.”

“The lack of trust here is _astounding_ ,” he says.

She laughs and touches her head briefly to his shoulder.

“Hey, I think we’ve got a bottle of wine, somewhere,” she says. “How about it?

Scott holds his hand out to hers.

“Lead the way.”

* * *

 

Scott looks at the tree, abandoned mid-decoration, branches already browning at the tips. He grabs a pitcher of water while he waits for Tessa to come back from the washroom, tipping the contents into the bucket before heading back for a refill.

Tessa walks in on his third top-up and he smiles sheepishly.

“Was the wine not to your liking?” she says, with the barest lift of an eyebrow.

He looks at the jug in his hand and clears his throat.

“It – uh – it seemed rude to just stand here and let it… uh,” he says.

“Die?” Tessa says.

Scott runs a hand through the back of his hair.

“Uh… yeah,” he replies. “Does it bother you if I…”

She shakes her head.

“Not at all,” she says.

He tips the remaining water into the soil, casting his eyes around for some other way to make himself useful. His eyes fall on the discarded wreath, the open boxes of scattered decorations, as he searches for some quip to lighten the mood. But it all sounds so trivial in his head – and so he says nothing.

“We kind of just… we got half-way through and – well – none of us were in the mood for it so we just… left,” she says, coming back from the kitchen with a bottle and two glasses.

“Tess, you don’t have to -”

“No, it’s okay,” she says. “I mean, it’s the holidays, you can’t exactly avoid all this… stuff.”

“So, are you going to… celebrate in Toronto?” he asks.

She hesitates, clearly debating whether to answer.

“Actually, I’m not.”

“Not what?”

“Not going to celebrate Christmas this year.”

Scott blinks.

“How do you not… celebrate Christmas?” he says.

She sighs, like she regrets telling him at all.

“Well, Mom’s decided to visit Casey this year, Jordan’s in Cabo, _I’ve_ just finished boxing up the last of my things here… don’t look at me like that, I’m _fine_. Jo’s back on Boxing Day and we’re going to drive up to Casey’s and have a nice lunch. It’s not a big deal.”

Scott looks down at the array of boxes on the floor.

“It’s not a big deal?” he repeats. “Tess, you’re _cancelling_ Christmas.”

“Scott…”

“Look, I don’t mean to make you feel bad, but…”

“Scott, I’m fine,” she says. “I just don’t feel like celebrating and I’m not going to bring everybody else down because of it.”

Scott rifles through a box of decorations.

He can think of a dozen things he’d like to say right now but he wages she’d find a counter for each one.

They’d been in transition for months now, the inevitability of their retirement pulling them both in different directions – except that while she was flying free, he was just going around in circles.

Was it fair to her to ask her to stay? Was it fair to add his emotional baggage to her own? It wasn’t _her_ fault that he didn’t know what to do with his life now. He couldn’t expect her to understand that her absence from his everyday had made him think about how much he missed her.

How much he…

He’d been seeing a girl – before Sochi, a little after – but she hadn’t been interested in playing third wheel to the loss of his career. He doesn’t blame her. She was the one who’d asked whether it was his _job_ he mourned or losing Tess. And he still doesn’t have an answer for that, because he’s still here finding ways to be by her side and yet still finding every goddamn excuse in the book not to say something about it.

“The ribbon’s come loose on the doves” he says, holding the turtle doves out to her.

“Oh,” she says, trying to cover the slight flush to her cheeks by taking another sip of wine.

She reaches out to take them from him, running her fingers over the intricate pair.

She gets up suddenly, setting her glass – and the birds - on the mantle, before heading across the room.

“Did I do something wrong?” he says, quickly.

“What?” she says. “No.”

She’s not looking at him though and her hands are pressing down against her eyes.

“Tess,” he says, and when she turns, the tears run unbidden down her cheeks.

He walks over to her, wrapping her in his arms before she even has time to speak, before the first sob begins to break.

“He left us,” she says, her face burrowing into his neck while her fists clench in his shirt. “He left us and I didn’t see it coming. I was so busy, so focused on me, on us, on skating… and I had no idea.”

“I’m so sorry, T,” he says.

He doesn’t know what else to say and he hates the fact he can’t come up with anything more than simple platitudes.

On the ice, they could fix anything. They could look at a programme, strip it of its components, throw away the bad bits, and remake it into something even better. Off ice – they couldn’t deal with anything that went beyond the borders of their partnership.

So much for all their therapy, he thinks.

He reaches his hands up to take hers, finding them warm and damp in his grip. He thinks it’s useless trying to pry them off, so he just covers over them, holding them in place, letting her tears fall on his neck and chest, helpless to do anything but let her.

He feels her slow, eventually, the gentle sniffing against his shoulder indicating she was trying to mask some greater embarrassment now.

“Go ahead and use the shirt,” he says, with a low chuckle. “I’ll just throw it through the wash later.”

She laughs softly, the tears still fresh in her eyes as she raises her head to look at him. Scott brushes his thumbs across her lashes and along her jaw, his hands meeting near the point of her chin.

“Tess?”

“Yes?” she says, her voice breathy and warm against his skin.

“I always liked the fact that there was something on your tree to remind you of me,” he says.

“Really?” she says, and he can read the scepticism in her brow. “Because I always found it annoying that the one time of year, I could actually get _away_ from you, there you _were_.”

The twitch in her lips is everything to him.

“You’re an absolute menace, Virtch, you know that?” he says.

“Mm hm,” she replies.

“Anything else you’d care to share?” he says. “Want to run me over while I’m at it?”

“Well,” she says. “There was a time in my life where I imagined doing _just_ that.”

“And why didn’t you?” he says, his thumbs still stroking the edge of her jaw.

“Because I didn’t have a license,” she says.

He laughs, pulling her into him and holding her tightly, releasing her before it gets too much.

“There you go again,” he says. “Thinking you’re so damn funny.”

 “I _am_ so funny,” she says, reaching for his hand and tugging him towards her.

He goes willingly into her arms, pressing one hand to her hip, the other clasping tightly into the hold they know so well, the one they’ve practiced a thousand times, and danced a thousand times more.

They’re on their third twirl when he kisses her, their fourth when she kisses him back and somewhere between the fifth and the sixth when he loses his shirt and she loses her sweater.

Her lips are impossibly soft, and he can still taste the salt and the warmth of the tears on her cheeks as he brushes against them. Her mouth is on his jaw, on his neck, on his chin, as he presses his fingers into her hair, cradling her head between his palms and lets her explore every path she needs to as long as it’ll lead her back to him.

She unbuttons her jeans, pulling them down and off her legs before he can even register that it’s happened, and he has just enough sense to grab onto her thighs as her legs wrap ‘round his waist and they both go tumbling down onto the bed.

Her lips are on his again, tongue swirling around his mouth, hips rocking in urgent motion against the strain in his jeans. He dips his fingers beneath her camisole, tracing the curve of her abdominals while his mouth deeps the kiss between them. He marvels at the series of muscles beneath his hand, spares a brief thought for all the New Year’s resolutions he’s never had to make about staying in shape before vowing to make one this year, and carves a path upward, settling his palm against the smooth mound of her breast. She arches into his touch, sending the growing ache inside him into desperate need but he wants to savour this, savour her, and so he stays her hip with his thigh and presses his lips to the soft skin beneath her breast bone, dipping his tongue out to taste her.

She moans softly, her hands making fists in the sheets below them, and he takes it as a sign to continue. Her shirt is one of those ones with the inbuilt support, and he appreciates the lack of fuss and interruption as his lips go the way of his palm.

She whispers his name – so softly he thinks he’s misheard – and he drags himself away from his ministrations to plant a kiss against her mouth, hot and hasty, and filled with a need he hadn’t fully realised until now. She moans into him and he responds, sliding his tongue along hers, grinding his hips down and rubbing himself against the soft cotton between them. Her fingers press deeply into his shoulder blades, as his hand strokes her thigh, and it’s all he can do to keep himself steady at this point. He dips his fingers beneath the lace around her hips, stroking her, watching the way she arches against his hand, the way her lips part the closer he brings her to release.

Then her hands are at his waist, pulling at his button, tugging at his zip, pushing his jeans and his boxer-briefs down in one motion. He helps her with the rest of it, kicking them off the ends of his feet, before reaching back for her, sliding her underwear over her thighs and tossing them on the growing pile of abandoned clothing. His mouth finds hers again, one last quick moment of reassurance before he steadies himself above her, settling himself between her thighs as their bodies responded to a need they’d long-since denied.

She spends the night letting his lips explore every inch of her skin, and by morning, he really had known her better than anyone.

* * *

  
Tessa stands at the dock, clutching the turtle doves in her hand. He knows it’s the doves, because they’re no longer on the mantle and whatever she’s holding is small enough to fit in her palm.

He’d lain there a while, watching her breathe and when he’d felt her stir, he’d closed his eyes, not knowing what it would mean for them to have that moment, that morning after, that questioning of decisions made that perhaps should have stayed locked away. He’d pretended to sleep when she’d left the warmth of their bed, when she’d returned from the bathroom, when she’d pressed her lips to his forehead, and whispered “Goodbye, Scott”.

And now he’s watching her through the window, as certain as anything that she’s making one of the biggest mistakes of her life, as certainly as he is making one of his.

He watches her press the delicate ornament to her temple, can see her lips move with words he’ll never hear. And then it’s gone; hurled from her shoulder as if she were pitching a baseball, it lands in the water without ceremony - just a small splash and a few ripples to show it had ever been disturbed.

He knows this is about her father, that it’s not about _him_ , knows that she wouldn’t have made the distinction, but it feels that way all the same.

He looks down for a minute, trying to breathe through an ache he hadn’t seen coming and when he looks up, she’s gone.

Scott wipes the corner of his eye with the back of his hand and sighs.

“Merry Christmas, Tess,” he says.

* * *

 

**Mistleton, Present Day**

 

Scott gets out of the car, not bothering to be quiet about it.

She’d pulled up at the Lodge just ahead of him, raced up the steps and had the key in the lock just as he slammed his car door.

“Is _this_ what you do now?” he says, his temper up. “You just… _run_ whenever you feel like it? When you _don’t_ like what’s happening?”

She rounds on him, startled to find him as close as he is, and puts a finger to his chest.

“You don’t to get to ask me that,” she says.

“No, Tess,” he says. “I _do._ I _do_ get to ask you that. Because _you_ don’t get to walk _back_ into my life and _into_ my bed and then _run_ off because you’re pissed at me.”

“You _called_ my father!”

“Yes, I did!” he says. “Yes, I did. To _tell_ him that you were hurting. To _tell_ him that he needed to find some way to fix this because you would _always_ be afraid of making him feel bad.”

“I didn’t _ask_ you to call him!” she says. “I didn’t _ask_ you to bring him here. I didn’t _ask_ you to invade my privacy like that!”

“You _need_ to talk to him!”

“That wasn’t _your_ call to make!” she says. “I mean, how did you _think_ this was going to go? Did you think I’d be _happy_ he popped up in Mistleton two days before Christmas?”

“No, Tess,” he says. “That’s not… I invited him to the carnival and he said he probably couldn’t make it, so I told him we were having the tree lighting tomorrow and that it would be nice if he could come.”

“Again,” Tessa says. “ _Over_ -stepping.”

He rubs a hand across his face and sighs.

“Okay,” he says. “Yes. But I… I asked him to call first… to let us know if he could make it. A kind of… first step.”

“No, Scott, the _first_ step would have been to tell me you wanted to call him at _all_ ,” she says.

“You know what,” he says. “You’re right. And I’m sorry. I really was just trying to help.”

“How…”

She shakes her head at him.

“How did you think bringing him _here_ would help?” she says.

“Because, Tess,” he says. “You’ve been running from this for four years.”

“I have _not_ been running,” she says.

“You left!”

“And everybody in Mistleton – including you – _knew_ that I was leaving.”

“I wanted you to stay!”

“Then you should have _asked_ me!”

He feels something rip through his chest, tearing through tissue and bone and anything else possessed of feeling.

“T -” he says

“Don’t call me that.”

It’s his turn to shake his head now, a backlog of emotion turned to anger building inside of him.

“So, this really was it, eh?”

“What are you talking about?” she says.

“This!” he says. “This farce of a show. Tessa Virtue makes a mistake and she’ll jump through a thousand and one hoops to fix it because she can’t _stand_ the thought of someone _not_ liking her.”

“That,” she says. “That is _not_ fair.”

“Yes, it is fair, Tess,” he replies. “It is! Because, _you_ came to town with _every_ intention of leaving it the way you came in – without a second thought. What was I? A pity lay? Let’s cut the poor guy a break – the guy who was dumb enough to put a tree up every year in case the girl he loved came back?”

“I… what?”

She stares at him, lips slightly parted, and he can see her mind working – trying to figure out which part of his outburst she was going to tackle first.

“Is that… is that what you think this was?” she says. “That I was… that you were… convenient?”

“Tess,” he says. “It wouldn’t have been the first time.”

She recoils from him, the flinch not just in her body, but in her eyes too… and he can see it hurts her. But he’s hurting too, and he needs her to know that.

“I wanted you to… I was hoping… you’d come after me,” she says, quietly, unable to meet his eyes.

“I wasn’t a mind-reader, Tess,” he says.

“And you would never _ever_ say how you feel!” she says.

“That’s a little rich coming from the girl who hates Christmas.”

“Excuse me?”

“You _hate_ Christmas because your _Dad_ left,” he says. “You don’t want to spend the day with anyone else because it _reminds_ you of that. And you’ll _carry_ on doing it because then _you_ don’t have to address your feelings. _You_ don’t have to process feeling inadequate, feeling stupid, feeling _anything_. Well you know what, Tess, that’s selfish. Because while _you_ were off _not_ feeling, you forgot that there was an entire town of people here who _loved_ you, who _missed_ you, who _you_ cut out of your life for the - _convenience_ \- of not having to feel anything about it.”

“I didn’t…”

“You blamed _our_ partnership for not seeing it coming,” he says.

“That is _not_ what I meant,” she says.

“You threw the _doves_ into the lake!”

“I -”

“Look, I know your dad bought ‘em… and I know that had _meaning_ for you and goddamn it, I knew you were hurting but that was _us_ , Tess. Yeah your dad may have bought them but that was us you threw away that day.”

“Scott…”

There are tears in her eyes and he looks away – he can’t do this if she cries. He’d never be able to walk away.

“Just… just do your show, Tess,” he says. “Just… go to the tree lighting tomorrow, give thanks for a job well done - and go.

“Scott…”

“Bye Tess,” he says, climbing into his car and starting the engine.

Scott backs up and turns, the wheels tearing tracks through the snow, before pulling off, a little faster than he needed to. He makes it down the drive before his eyes find the mirror, find her, standing on the porch steps, watching him leave. And he fights every impulse inside of him to turn around and go back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm... sorry?


	12. We Wish You a Moiry Christmas

She squints against the sunlight filtering through the window, the winter rays poking harshly at her retinas and pulling her to wakefulness.

Everything hurts.

Her head, her ribs, her legs – every muscle feels tense, every bone aches right down to the marrow.

And she’s cold – cheeks, fingers, nose – all ice.

Tessa groans, her body protesting movement, her mind cursing the light of day when the night had already been so unforgiving.

She reaches down, her hand pressing against the comforter pulled up to her chest.

_How?_

“Good morning, sleepyhead.”

Tessa rolls over onto her other side, still peering out of one eye.

“Hi,” she says, her voice a painful croak.

Jordan gives her a smile and holds a mug of steaming something beneath her nose.

“I cranked up the heat,” she says. “It’s like a refrigerator in here.”

Tessa manages a grunt, lying still while her sister leans over her and sets the mug on the side.

“I had to cover you up before you became a human popsicle,” Jordan says, with a grin.

She tries for a smile but the ache between her eyes sends it out as wince.

“Good try, babe,” her sister says. “Wanna try sitting up? Get some coffee inside you?”

Tessa attempts the movement, the muscles between her shoulders screaming with tautness as Jordan lifts her by the elbow, helping her the rest of the way.

“When did you get here?” she asks, her voice thick in her ears.

“About thirty minutes ago,” Jordan replies. “Your producer said you didn’t come back last night.”

Tessa covers her head with a hand, pressing her fingers into her temple.

“He left,” she says, her voice catching in her throat.

“I know, honey,” Jordan says.

“He left, Jo, and it’s all my fault.”

“Tessie, it’s not your fault,” Jordan says. “Even if you _had_ seen it sooner, you wouldn’t have been able to change the outcome. Dad made his _own_ choices.”

Tessa sniffs.

“Not _Dad_ ,” she says, barely above a whisper. “ _Scott_.”

“Scott?”

“He left and… oh God I don’t blame him.”

Her cheeks are wet with fresh tears, though she’s not sure how much more her puffy eyelids can take.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Jordan says, wiping Tessa’s cheeks with her fingers. “Tessa Virtue doesn’t cry over boys.”

She puts her hands either side of Tessa’s face, eyes filled with concern.

Tessa’s lip wobbles.

“Okay,” Jordan says. “Maybe Tessa Virtue cries over _one_ boy.”

It’s a half-laugh, half-sob that comes out of her and Tessa leaps at her sister, wrapping her arms around Jordan’s shoulders and squeezing tight. Jordan hugs her right back, letting her sit there as long as she needed to.

“I’m a horrible person,” Tessa whispers, sometime after the tears are spent.

“No, you’re not,” Jordan says. “You’re not a horrible person.”

“He said I’d stopped _feeling_ ,” she says.

“Tessa,” Jordan says. “Of _course_ , you _feel_. You’re not a _robot_. Millions of people tune into watch you every day because they _like_ you, because in some small way you bring joy to their day. If they were just in it for a newscast, they could watch any damn segment. There’s a _reason_ yours is the most watched morning show across the country, and there’s a _reason_ why the hours between six and nine are a little less bleak.”

“You think so?” Tessa says.

“I know so,” Jordan replies. “ _My_ only complaint is I’m at my desk by eight-thirty and I _never_ catch the live workout stream after.”

Tessa laughs.

“We can’t exactly air it during the broadcast,” Tessa says.

“I don’t see why not?” Jordan says. “Do working people not deserve great abs?”

Tessa laughs again.

“Ah, Tess,” Jordan says, shifting her position so she’s sitting beside her. “You’re just a little lost, right now. You’ll find your way again.”

“I don’t think I was just lost, Jo,” she says. “I think I was… hidden. I ran away from it all and I just… I forgot. In running away from one bad thing, I forgot about all the good things I had.”

Jordan runs hers fingers through Tessa’s hair, taming the waves, before wrapping her arms around her sister and placing a quick kiss on her shoulder.

“You can fix this, Tess,” she says.

“How?” Tessa replies. “Scott hates me.”

“Tess,” Jordan says. “If there’s one thing I know about Scott Moir is that _he_ would move the earth closer to the _sun_ if you told him you were cold. You can do this.”

“I don’t even know where to begin,” Tessa says.

“I do,” Jordan says.

Tessa raises her eyebrows, a little relieved that Jordan is ready to give her a kick-start.

“You need to talk to Dad.”

“Jordan.”

“No. No ‘Jordan’,” she says. “It’s time, Tess. And if you want to fix what happened with Scott, you’re going to have to realise that Dad made his choice… and that you made one too.”

Tessa lowers her gaze, the truth not hurting any less in the cold light of day.

“I missed out on four… _years_ of family Christmases,” she whispers. “Because I couldn’t deal with the loss.”

Jordan nods, giving Tessa’s shoulders one final squeeze.

“Then change it, Tess,” she says. “Talk to Scott. Talk to _Dad_. What’s done is done and you can’t get a do-over… but you _can_ make a comeback. Yeah, okay, you’ve missed four years of Christmases and that sucks, but you know what, sis? You can damn well make sure that it isn’t a _fifth_.”

* * *

 

She stops at the Inn first out of necessity, ignoring the stares, knowing she must look a mess and knowing equally that everybody would be too polite to say anything about it.

She slides through the shower, lets the hot water scald her raw while she scrubs her face clean of last night’s make-up. Her mother would caution her for being so careless and vicious with her skin, but she doesn’t care right now. It’s already late, she’d slept most of the morning away, and she genuinely doesn’t have a lot of time here.

It’s Christmas Eve, the tree lighting is this evening, and she’s going to have to sit on top of a reindeer float in a few hours and try to look like she hasn’t just wept her weight in tears.

Tessa dries herself off, throws on some tights, a tank, and a training hoody before she pads next door in her bare feet.

Maddy isn’t there which is not unusual, but it is surprising.

She half-expected her to be packing up, so that she’d be ready to go the minute they’d finished taping.

Tessa heads back to her room, sending a quick text to her producer to let her know that she was alive and that she’d be heading to the rink in the next half hour – she knows she needs to talk to her father but she also needs to make things right with Scott and whilst she has absolutely no idea where the former is right now, she knows _exactly_ where the latter will be.

Hair dry, she pulls it up into a messy knot on the top of her head, grabs her runners and shoots out the door. She could drive, sure, but hitting the pavement is somehow better for her head and her mood – even if it wasn’t so great for her shins (or practical for the purse currently bouncing against her thigh).

When she gets to Mistleton Skating Club she skids to a stop, breathing heavily, and slightly amazed that she made it all the way here without sliding onto her ass across the sidewalk. She thinks it has a lot to do with the fact that she was going too fast for even the most determined piece of ice.

There’s no one on the door, but she didn’t think there would be as the rink was now closed to the public until the New Year. It’s unlocked at least – which saves her having to go around back and leg it up through one of the back windows – and she heads for the ice.

It’s quiet, reminding her of the times when she and Scott would sneak into the rink at night just to skate a little longer. They’d been kids at the time – just nine and eleven – before their lives had become overly complicated by hormones and best friends and boyfriends. She’d turned down a place at the National Ballet School to continue skating, and after that, she’d wanted to be on the ice all the time. Scott’s family had ties to the rink and he was the one who’d taught her how to sneak in around back.

Tessa tries not to think about how it was Scott she chose, and how it always seems to come back to him.

 

He’s been here – the freshly-flooded ice clearly disturbed by the cut of blades. She places her hands on the boards, tracing his path with her eyes, marking the moment where frustration took over and he’d picked up speed, carving circle after circle.

Tessa sighs.

She’d never meant for any of… this.

His skates are leaning against the stairs, one toppled sideways in hasty abandonment, and she smiles – Scott was always one to leave going to the bathroom until the very last second. She crouches down and attaches his skate guards to the blades, before looking around for his gear bag. It’s not in her line of sight, and she’s turning to look for it just as her mind processes the fall of footsteps behind her.

“Hi,” she says.

There’s a beat while he registers her presence and a flash of something in his eyes that let’s her know he’s genuinely surprised to see her.

“Hi,” he says, scratching the edge of his eyebrow with a finger. “What are you… what are you doing here?”

“I didn’t climb through the window, if that’s what you were thinking,” she says, trying for a smile.

He doesn’t laugh, and she closes her eyes briefly over how ridiculous she must sound.

“I wasn’t thinking that,” he says.

Tessa thinks he may as well have run her over with a Zamboni.

“Oh,” she says, hating the way he’s looking everywhere _but_ at her. “The door was open, but there…um… was nobody on it, so I didn’t even have to pay a fee, I -”

“Jesus, Tess, why are you _here_?”

“Scott, _please_ talk to me,” she says, her eyes springing with fresh tears.

He turns away, rubbing a hand over his face before coming back ‘round again.

“About what, Tess?” he says.

He doesn’t sound angry. Just tired and sad. She’d give anything for him to fire something back at her, to fight for this – for them. But he looks resigned to whatever it was he’d decided about them last night.

“About _this_ ,” she says. “ _Us_.”

“Tessa,” he says. “There isn’t… we’re not an _‘us’_.”

“No,” Tessa says. “We’ve _always_ been an _‘us’_.”

He shakes his head at her, like he’s too tired to argue the point.

“We’ve lived separate lives for four years now just fine,” he says. “We’re not an - _anything_ anymore.”

She feels the tightness build in her chest, as if someone’s thrust their hand right through her ribs, wrapped it around her heart, and squeezed.

It’s not as simple as that – they were never as simple as that – but he’s still right. In leaving, she had slowly shut herself off from her former life. And in not going after her, she’d thought that this was the way he’d wanted it too. A fresh start, figuring out his life without her for the first time since he was nine years-old. She’d never imagine that their night at the Lodge, that the morning after that he would –

_Oh God._

“Scott,” she says. “I never meant to hurt you.”

“Tess, it doesn’t…” he’s shaking his head again, like he’s willing himself not to say it, but he says it anyway, “matter anymore.”

He turns away from her and she has to bite down on her tongue to keep her body from sinking into the floor.

“Scott, please don’t… please don’t do this,” she says, unable to stop her tears. “Please don’t do this, I… I love you.”

He stops walking away from her – he at least gives her that – before pressing his hands down on the top of the boards, his head dropping low.

“I know I… didn’t make the right decision here,” she says, walking towards him, slowly. “But at the time I thought… I thought I was doing what was best for me and you’re right… a lot of it was selfish. I didn’t know… how you felt… and you can’t hold me responsible for not knowing. But I’m _sorry_ you were hurt… because believe me, you are the last person in the world that I would want to do that to. And I know now why I didn’t want to talk about you after, why it was easier not to, and it’s because the minute you hit me with your car and we sat on the back of that ambulance… I knew… I knew how much I’d missed you, missed this, missed us. Because we are an ‘us’, Scott! We _are_. And I want _you_. I want _this_. I want _us_.”

She comes up beside him, trying to read the expression on his face.

His jaw is tight with tension, his fists clenching against the boards, with every tick of muscle - and she doesn’t think she’s won herself any points here. He still won’t look at her, and she imagines if he did, it wouldn’t be in any way that mattered.

Yes, she was still angry and hurt that he’d called her father – but she understands now, why he did it.

She walks toward the plastic seat where she’d set her purse, can sense him turn his head slightly to watch her, although she’s not sure why.

“The – um – I’ll be at the tree lighting later,” she says. “We have to film the last segment – I don’t mean… you don’t have to be there. I just… wanted you to know.”

He nods but doesn’t say anything.

“We have a late check-out but after that I’m… pretty much… I’ll have to head back to Toronto, either with Maddy or with Mom, I don’t know. It’s either that or I’d be sleeping on the streets of Mistleton tonight.”

He nods, lips still tight, jaw still ticking.

 “I brought you something,” she says, and his eyebrow arches a little, curiosity getting the better of him.

Reaching into her purse, she produces a small gold gift box, wrapped in red ribbon and holds it out to him. He takes it from her, turning it over a little in his hand as he examines it.

“It has a letter,” she says, pointing out the hastily-folded note, tucked into the side. “I apologise for the paper… it – uh – was the best stationery the Lodge had to offer.”

Again, he doesn’t laugh, and the blow hurts more than she could have imagined.

She really couldn’t fix this.

 

And she really had lost him.

 

“I know I can only ask your forgiveness here,” she says. “And I also know it may not be something you’re able to give right now, and that’s okay. You were right… about most things… but not about everything.”

She breathes out slowly, staring up towards the ceiling to spare her cheeks from further threat.

“It – um – there was so much of me that I was trying to fight and trying to throw away I… I never…”

Tessa gestures towards the box.

“This is for you,” she says. “It’s something I’ve always held on to, and it was the only part of my old life that I ever wanted to keep.”

She watches the way he looks over the box, the way he eyes her letter on the side, the way he frowns in contemplation as he tries to decide what she would possibly bring him that could erase how he felt about her leaving… about the way she’d left.

Scott nods, still not looking at her, and sets the box down on the boards.

 

And it crushes her.

“Thank you,” he says.

She nods back, closing her eyes and holding it all in – wondering if anyone would notice the way she tore back through the streets red-faced, her eyes looking like she’d been stung by bees.

“Goodbye, Scott,” she says, grabbing her purse off the boards and tucking it to her ribs.

She heads back the same way she came in –

and she doesn’t dare turn around.

* * *

 

Scott watches her leave, every piece of him heavy and weighted down into the mat.

He waits a good minute before turning back towards the boards, the sigh on his breath, loud and long. He lets his head fall into his hands, tries blinking away the sting in his eyes for all the good it’ll do him, and when he presses the heels of his palms against them, they come away damp.

He sighs again, feeling utterly defeated.

_“You’re an idiot.”_

Scott turns suddenly, the movement doing nothing to help the fog in his head.

Maddy stands across from him, arms folded across her chest.

“I’m sorry?” he says.

She shakes her head again and drops her arms out to the side.

“You. Are. An. Idiot,” she repeats.

“Thank you for that clarification,” he says.

“The universe,” Maddy says, pinching her fingers together as if they hold her point, “conspires to put you two together on this planet at the _same_ time. Allows you to grow up together, to overcome all the odds of puberty, of injury, of watching each other date other people. Throws you together in this tiny town that starts you on your journey to the goddamn _Olympics_. And then, _brings_ you _back_ together _long_ after you thought your story had ended and you just… let. her. get… away.”

“Maddy, I don’t want to be rude but -”

“Yeah, I know,” she says. “It’s none of my business and I imagine that’s _exactly_ what Tess would tell me, but listen bucko, take it from someone who nearly gave up on the best thing that ever happened to her because I was too busy thinking about how _I_ felt about our distance instead of trying to find a way to make it _work_ for us. You let her go once – and yeah, okay I don’t know the details, I’m sure you had your reasons, but you’re about to make that same move again and let me tell you it’s a dick one. You let her go _now_ , after she comes here and bears her soul, and you have only yourself to blame.”

Scott looks down at his feet, his tongue too thick to respond.

“Okay,” Maddy says. “Lecture over, I just came to say thank you for your discretion over the whole Steve situation. For the record, he will no longer be working for CBC network.”

Scott nods, clearing his throat a little.

“Good to know,” he says.

“Catherine has also asked me to write you a cheque,” she says. “As a thank you for helping us out with the show.”

“That’s not necessary,” Scott says. “I was happy to help.”

Maddy gives him a pointed look.

“And it’s pretty obvious as to why,” she says.

Scott nods in response.

“Look just… take the cheque, Moir,” she says.

“I wouldn’t – uh – I wouldn’t feel right about it,” he replies.

“Think of it as a… donation then,” she says. “Towards the club. Help the future of skating and all that. Look, Catherine has already authorised it and I really don’t have the energy to argue why it hasn’t been cashed so…”

He smiles, taking the proffered piece of paper.

“Thank you,” he says. “I appreciate it.”

“It’s been a pleasure working with you, Scott,” she says, offering her hand. “And if you’re around later, my wife, Jenn would sure love to meet you.”

“She’s coming _here_?” Scott says.

Maddy nods.

“To the tree lighting,” she replies. “I kind of like this weird little town and all of its charms. I think she’d like them too.”

“I’d be _happy_ to meet her,” he says, with a smile.

“Great,” Maddy says. “Although, don’t get her started about having your babies or I might have to kill you.”

Scott laughs.

“I – uh – I’ve been told that it’s best not to mess with you so… I’ll try my best,” he says.

“Alright then,” Maddy says. “I’ll see you later, and in the meantime… try to think of a few ways that you could… y’know… _not_ … be an idiot.”

* * *

 

Tessa opens the door to The Maple Brew, rising up onto the balls of her feet to peer over the throng.

It’s surprisingly busy for the middle of the afternoon, but as usual at this time of year, there are a lot of visitors in town enjoying the festivities and most people would be waiting for the Christmas Eve tree lighting ceremony.

Still, it’s a lot of people, more than she’d like if she’s honest but there isn’t much choice here. Sure, she could have done this at the Lodge, but she didn’t have the time to get there and back before the final segment and still feel in any way human. Not that she’s thought an awful lot about Toronto since she got here but – she definitely misses having a hair and make-up team in these desperate hours of need.

“Tessa!”

She looks up to find her dad waving at her over in the back. She gives a smaller wave in response and heads over, squeezing through the crowd, and slipping into the booth.

“Thank you for meeting me,” Tessa says.

“Of course, Tess,” he says, gesturing towards the seating. “I – uh – figured you’d want a little privacy, I hope this is okay?”

She nods.

“Yes, thank you, it’s fine,” she replies.

“Do you want to order some food?” he says. “The carvery looks superb, as usual.”

Tessa smiles, her stomach responding to the promise of sustenance.

“Sure,” she replies.

Jim Virtue signals a server and they both give their order. There’s a bit of a wait but Tessa doesn’t mind, she’s got a lot she needs to say.

“Do you want a beer?” her father asks. “Some wine, maybe?”

“I can’t,” Tessa says, smiling at their waiter. “I’m working, but I’ll take an iced-tea, please.”

“Coming right up.”

There’s a pause in conversation, the lull settling in between two people who don’t really know how to talk to each other anymore.

It lasts until the waiter returns with their drinks and Tessa spends at least seven long minutes after, taking small sips and swirling her straw around the ice cubes.

She feels awkward, is certain that he is too. His fingers hover just out of reach of his phone, like he’s fighting the urge to check it just for want of something to do, and he’s looking about the room with a pleasant sort of smile on his face, a little too interested in its décor.

Tessa sighs, wiping her brow with the back of her hand and pushing her glass to the side. She can’t avoid this any further. It was getting late, and she knew he’d probably need to get back out on the road before it got dark.

“Dad I… wow I really don’t know where to begin,” she says.

“It’s okay, Tessa,” he replies. “I can see how hard this is for you, and you probably don’t want to say anything you think might… cause offence.”

Tessa bites her lip.

“I just want you to know,” he says. “That whatever you feel you need to say, that I can take it. I realise I didn’t make thing easy on you… or on your mother… and for what it may be worth, I _am_ sorry for that.”

“Thank you,” she replies.

“Tess, you have to know that… it was never my intention to make you feel like any of this was your fault,” he says. “It wasn’t. It was my decision to leave, and it was my decision to keep quiet about it as long as we did. You were so focused… so… intent on your goals and it was easy to delay the inevitable.”

She looks away, shame creeping into her gut.

“Tess?” he says.

She lets out a slow breath, turning back toward him.

“I should have seen it,” she says. “I should have known that things weren’t… I’d spent so much time away, training and touring and I… I didn’t see it.”

Her father nods in sympathy.

“I know it was a blow.”

Tessa snorts.

“A blow?” she says. “You weren’t even _there_.”

Jim Virtue looks down at his hands.

“You left it to mom to break the final news and I’m sorry, but _Jordan_ may have known that something was up, but _I_ had no idea. You _should_ have been there. And you _should_ have told me yourself.”

He nods.

“You’re right,” he says. “You’re absolutely right, and I hold myself responsible for what it’s done to you.”

Tessa sighs, thinking it would be easy to let him assume all the blame here, to not have to take some measure of responsibility onto herself.

“It’s not… it’s not _all_ your fault, Dad,” she says. “Yes, you… may have been the trigger, but I chose to make this what it was. _I_ chose to stop celebrating Christmas. I chose to leave Mistleton because… because it reminded me of our life here… of all the Christmases we spent here as a family. _I_ chose to narrow the meaning of the holiday down in the way that I did, and _I_ chose to forget what it was really about. That part is on me.”

“I’m sorry, Tess,” he says. “I know I could have handled that period of my life better… that I could have been more open about it. That I could have been honest. I know it didn’t help that I started a new relationship… it must have seemed so soon to you.”

“It did,” Tessa replies.

Her father nods again.

“I hope,” he says. “I hope you can forgive me for the pain that I caused. I hope going forward that… that being here again has reminded you of all the wonderful times you’ve had, of the relationships you’ve had and the people you’ve met. And that you can’t keep running away from Christmas because you think that it will remind you of that pain. I don’t want that for you. I want you to be happy, to celebrate with the people you love, to feel the joy that comes with… being surrounded by the good times. I know it’s easier said than done, and I know you’re pretty mad at Scott right now for calling me down here but honey, we _all_ make mistakes. Please don’t keep hurting because of mine.”

Tessa wipes at her eye, staving off the build-up behind it and wondering how on earth she could have any more tears left to shed.

She nods quickly, grasping her hands together in front of her, and diverting her senses to the pressure between her palms.

Her father reaches out, placing his hand on hers, and nods too.

_“And, here you go, one grilled chicken Caesar salad and one roast beef carvery with vegetables.”_

“Thank you,” Tessa replies, smiling back at their waiter.

“Yes, thank you,” Jim replies.

Her father gives a small smile across the table.

“Ready to eat?” he says.

Tessa’s stomach gives a small growl in response and they both laugh.

“I’ll take that as a _yes_ ,” he replies.

Tessa smiles.

Picking up her knife and fork, she places a napkin over her lap, feeling lighter than she has in years.

* * *

 

_“Good evening viewers and good evening Mistleton. Tonight, we gather in the Mistleton town square for the annual tree lighting ceremony. Every year on Christmas Eve, people gather beneath the stars to share one final wish for the holiday season. Townsfolk and visitors can buy a candle, to place beneath the tree. The candle can represent whatever you need it to, whether it’s in remembrance of a loved one, for somebody far away, or even just… one more wish at Christmas time. You light the candle – like so… okay, maybe not like so…”_

Scott sits on his office desk, watching the broadcast. He tries not to smile at the way she giggles when she can’t quite line the candle up with the one next to hers.

Her off-ice clumsiness always did make him laugh.

He knows he should be there, had to listen to his mother give him what-for over the phone and it’s not as if he’s _not_ going. He’s just going _later_ , after the broadcast, where he’s less likely to run into Tessa and less likely to be coaxed into an impromptu photoshoot with a dozen or so cellphones thrust in his face.

It’s cowardly, he knows it, but he can’t go out there and fake it front of the whole town - and he _definitely_ can’t fake it on national TV.

He sighs, trying not to think about how this time yesterday he’d been holding Tessa in his arms.

Scott has absolutely no idea how to feel about that right now… although Maddy’s _“You’re an idiot”_ comes to mind.

His phone lights up, the ringtone piercing through his ears and making him jump. He brings it to his ears and thumbs the green button.

“Ma, I said I’d be there, okay? I’m just closing up shop.”

_“I’m sure you are but I’m not your mother.”_

Scott pulls the phone from his ear and checks the screen, registering the unfamiliar number at the top.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “Uh - who is this?”

_“This is Catherine Tait.”_

Scott blinks.

 _“The CEO of CBC,”_ she adds.

“No, yeah, I remember,” he says, stumped as to why she was calling him – or how she’d got his number. “Hello, how are you? Merry Christmas.”

 _“I am fine, thank you, Mr. Moir,”_ she replies. _“And Merry Christmas to you.”_

“What can I do for you, Ms. Tait?”

 _“Hm, well I can see that a sudden appearance on live TV is out of the question,”_ she replies.

“Tessa is doing fine, Ma’am. She is _more_ than capable of holding her own and with all due respect, Ms. Tait, you _put_ her in a difficult position and gave her very little say in the matter, all because some _dumbass_ who likes his tree a little over-accessorised, couldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer.”

There’s silence a minute and he glances back at the television set, watching the camera pan over the crowds, some of them already lighting their candles and talking about what they’re thankful for.

Scott clears his throat.

“Sorry,” he says.

 _“I like you, Mr. Moir,”_ Catherine says. _“And I appreciate the directness.”_

“I had to learn it early on,” he says. “And please, call me Scott.”

 _“Alright, Scott,”_ Catherine says. _“Here’s the thing. I’ve liked what I’ve seen of you these past few weeks.”_

“Oh…kay,” he replies.

 _“And quite frankly,”_ she says. _“I’d like to see more it.”_

“More of… I’m sorry, what?”

 _“More of_ you _,”_ she says.

“As in…”

Catherine barks out a laugh.

 _“You. On television. More specifically, you and_ Tessa _. On television.”_

“Um… look, I don’t really think that’s a good idea.”

“ _Audience response would suggest otherwise,”_ Catherine says. _“And honestly, you two have the kind of chemistry a network dreams about.”_

“Ms. Tait,” he says. “I’m flattered but… I _have_ a job.”

 _“Oh, I know,”_ Catherine replies. _“And I’m not suggesting for a minute that you leave it. But I_ am _asking that you think about it. Tessa herself has plenty of other commitments outside of the show that she makes work for her, and Mistleton is not exactly far from Toronto.”_

“That’s a very generous offer…”

 _“You were Canada’s sweethearts,”_ she says, _“and I’m sure they wouldn’t mind waking up to both your faces every day.”_

Scott smiles.

_“Just… promise me you’ll at least think about it.”_

“I – uh – yeah I can do that,” he replies.

 _“Excellent,”_ Catherine says. _“Goodnight, Scott. And Merry Christmas.”_

“Merry Christmas,” Scott replies.

He tosses the phone and it knocks against the unopened gift box sitting on his desk. Picking it up, he lets out another long sigh and rolls it over in his hand, hating himself for the way he’d left things with Tess.

 

_“I know that, a few weeks ago, many of you found yourselves watching someone you knew… finding it difficult to face the prospect of Christmas. Truth is, it was a hard holiday for me because it reminded me of a time, a few years ago now, when my life was changing and instead of trying to… deal with that… I did what a lot of people do when we find things difficult. I tried to hide from it for a while… and that while just… kept on going.”_

Scott looks up from the box, having slid the letter out from beneath the ribbon, watching Tessa’s image fill the screen. She looks radiant.

 

 _“But being here… surrounded by old friends, by… family… it has truly been the best gift of all. Because I’ve realised that it wasn’t that I didn’t_ like _Christmas. It’s that I’d forgotten how to_ know _Christmas. I’d forgotten all of the things that it meant… and all of the things it could be. And tonight, as I place my own candle beneath the Mistleton tree, I am thankful… to you… for reminding me.”_

He looks away, the intensity of her gaze as she looks directly into the camera, making him feel as if she was _here_ in the room with him.

“Come on, Moir,” he says. “Just do it.”

He unravels the letter in his palm, placing it on his knee and using the side of his fist to iron out the wrinkles. A delay tactic, sure, but he’s not sure he can read what amounts to Tessa’s final goodbye. Scott closes his eyes and counts to five -

and starts reading:

 

_Dear Scott,_

_I know I’m probably the last person you want to hear from right now._

_I know that nothing that I say or do can change what happened between us._

_And I see now, just how much of it was my fault._

_And although I can’t expect your forgiveness, please know that I never, ever meant to hurt you. Not now, and not back then._

_After my father left, I was so lost. I wasn’t thinking – about anyone – and I realise now just how much I missed out on because of it._

_That night between us… it meant a lot to me. Maybe I didn’t understand exactly how or why, but it did. It meant more to me that I could ever have said, even though I should have said something. You were there for me when I needed you and I am so sorry, that my leaving meant I wasn’t here for you when you may have needed it too. That was selfish of me and I hope that you can find it in you to forgive me for that one day._

_I understand that you might not want to know why I couldn’t say goodbye… why I stood on the dock that day. I couldn’t see past my own hurt and I wanted so desperately to get rid of it all… to get rid of Christmas and everything that would remind me of it. I didn’t feel that I could be ‘me’ anymore and I wanted to throw away the part of me that was hurting, so that I didn’t have to feel that way again._

_And I know now that all I did was mask it, and that it never truly went away._

_Being here with you reminded me of how much I love this town, of how much I’ve missed it – and you. You’re my best friend – even when we hated each other, you were always the person I most wanted to turn to. You understood me – you still do understand me – better than anyone else._

_If you’ve made this far. If you can bring yourself to open the box… please know it’s not easy for me to give this to you, because it means admitting that I love you, that I’ve loved you a long time, and that I have to tell you this knowing that you don’t want to speak to me, and knowing that I am giving away the only part of you that I have left._

_I hope that it goes someway towards giving you closure, and I hope that when you look at it, you’ll remember us as we were. That you might think about the good times we had and the laughter we shared. That you might remember the good._

_It is how I choose to remember us._

_Love always,_

_Tessa._

 

Scott lowers the letter, setting it aside and picking up the box once more. He unwraps the ribbon, twisting it in his fingers and setting it aside, before pulling off the lid.

“Fuck,” he breathes.

He stares for about a minute – or five – he’s not sure, with his hand covering his mouth.

“Oh, fuck,” he says, again.

Lying in the box, on a bed of soft tissue paper, is a single turtle dove.

* * *

 

“Great show, honey,” Kate Virtue says, placing her hands on Tessa’s arms.

“Thanks, Mom,” Tessa replies.

She smiles as her mother fixes her hair, catching the strays and tucking them behind her ears.

Jordan comes up behind them with three cups of mulled wine.

“Let’s get the party started!” she says, with a grin.

Tessa smiles, accepting the drink with gratitude.

“Do you have to leave right away?” Kate asks.

“Well, I don’t know,” Tessa says. “I’m still without a car so I _was_ planning on getting a ride with Maddy – although I have _no_ idea where she is.”

“Actually, she introduced us to her wife earlier, Jenn?” Jordan says. “And I think I saw them sneaking off somewhere in the direction of the fair.”

“But the fair’s closed,” Tessa says.

“Yes,” Jordan replies. “And the ice is free.”

Tessa laughs.

“Well… there goes my ride,” she says. “I guess this means I can stay a while longer.”

“That’s wonderful news,” Alma Moir says, stepping in beside them and wrapping Tessa in a hug. “Oh, how I’ve missed this face.”

Tessa smiles, keeping her hold.

“I’ve missed you too, Alma.”

Alma looks between all three of them, her eyes lighting up as she clasps her hands together.

“You must come to lunch tomorrow,” she says, suddenly.

Tessa’s eyes go wide.

“You’re _already_ here and you _know_ we’ll have plenty of food,” Alma says.

“We really couldn’t impose on you like that,” Tessa says.

“It’s Christmas!” Alma replies. “And I think it’s high time that we had the rest of our family come back to join us.”

“Well, I -” Kate starts.

“We could… sleep at the lodge?” Jordan suggests.

“And I _guess_ we’d be avoiding all that Christmas Eve traffic,” Kate says.

“ _And_ , it makes all the over-packing worth it,” Jordan adds.

“Why do I get the feeling, I’m being played here?” Tessa asks, a little smile on her face.

“Ah, honey,” Alma says. “You don’t have to. But I would love to have you. We have missed you all so much.”

“I -uh – I don’t think that will be very fair to Scott,” Tessa says quietly.

Alma gives her a look.

“You leave my son to me,” she says. “You are welcome in my home anytime, Tess.”

Tessa nods, going willingly into Alma’s arms as she wraps her in another hug.

“Okay,” Alma says, “We’ve got Christmas drinks at our place, and a street hockey game after that. Are you in?”

“A chance to kick some Moir butt?” Jordan says. “I am _there_!”

Tessa, Kate, and Alma laugh.

“I’m in too,” Kate replies. “Tess?”

“I have to move my things out of the Inn,” she says, still feeling uncertain about invading the Moir’s home, despite the invitation.

“Here, take my car,” Kate says, handing over the keys.

“Yeah, and while you’re there, take our bags inside and unpack the groceries,” Jordan says, with a tease.

Tessa pokes her tongue out.

“I had to try,” Jordan adds.

“Do you want me to go with you?” Kate says.

“I’ll be fine, Mom, thanks.”

“Okay, I’m going to at least help you carry your stuff down,” she says. “I know what your suitcase will be like.”

Tessa grins, walking back towards the Inn arm-in-arm with her mother.

“Mom?” she says, when they’re standing near her mother’s car.

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“You can’t sell the lodge.”

Kate Virtue smiles.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” she replies. “One bad Christmas shouldn’t take away all the great times we had there. It means a lot to me and… I don’t know, I just think if I have children some day, I want to be able to share it with them… and show them just what a special place it is. I was wrong to abandon it the way that I did, and I hope you can forgive me for making you feel like we couldn’t go back there.”

Kate pulls her daughter into a hug, smiling tearfully.

“Sweetheart, there is nothing to forgive,” she says, reaching out and brushing Tessa’s cheeks. “I knew that you were hurting, and I thought that… perhaps selling would help you let go, help you heal. But I see now that I was wrong about that, I can see how much you needed this place and I think… in fact… I _know_ , that there is someone _in_ it who very much needs you too.”

Tessa tries for a smile, grateful to be stepping into the car as she does so. She doesn’t have the heart to tell her mother that it was too late, that she and Scott had said their final farewells. Yes, she could show up later, grab a stick and wrestle the puck from some Moir boys, but it wouldn’t be fair to Scott. It would be hard enough that she’d be there on Christmas day, he didn’t need her wrecking his whole holiday like that. It was enough that he’d helped her to find Christmas again, and she’d just need to learn to leave it at that.

* * *

 

Scott skids to a halt, sliding cleanly onto his ass and coming to stop right in front of his mother – and Jordan Virtue.

“Can we help you?” Jordan says, with a perfectly raised eyebrow.

He scrambles to his feet, smiling sheepishly at the passersby giving him bemused stares.

“Didn’t you used to be an ice dancer?” she adds.

Scott rolls his eyes.

“Where is she?” he says.

Jordan shares a look with Alma, and shrugs.

“Could you be more specific?” she says.

He sighs.

“Jordan, please,” he says. “I need to find her.”

She folds her arms across her chest, clearly still debating whether to share anything with him.

“Scott, hello,” Kate says, coming up behind him.

He swivels his head between all three women, quickly determining that Tessa wasn’t with them.

“Are you alright?” she says. “I saw your performance across the square… I think you used to have better edges.”

Scott’s eyes bulge in frustration.

Had the Virtue women always been this sassy?

“Kate,” he says, turning to place his hands on her shoulders. “Tessa. Have you seen her? Has she left?”

Kate looks back at him with something akin to sympathy.

“She’s on her way to the lodge, Scott,” she says.

“I’ve invited the Virtues to Christmas lunch tomorrow,” Alma adds.

“And Mom and I are coming over now to wipe the floor with you guys,” Jordan says, with a grin.

Scott raises his eyebrows.

“Well,” Kate says. “ _Jordan’s_ going to wipe the floor… _I’m_ going to be drinking the wine.”

“What about Tess?”

Kate smiles.

“I think she’s just tired,” Kate says. “It’s been a long day and I think she would like to get some rest. She’ll join us for lunch tomorrow.”

Scott can’t wait that long.

“Okay… okay,” he says, before giving Kate, Jordan, and his mom a kiss each on the cheek and dashing back across the square.

“Uh – if there’s gonna be _sex_ , please text us _beforehand_!” Jordan says. “I don’t wanna be walking in on anything later!”

Scott waves a hand in the air as he runs.

“Always a pleasure, Jordan!” he replies.

* * *

 

The Lodge feels heavenly; its warmth hitting her skin and picking away at the last few hours spent outside in the cold. She thinks about starting a fire – to add to the mood – but she’s always been a little nervous about doing it herself. Maybe they should see about switching it out for a gas fire – genuine logs are nice and all but so is not burning down the house.

Turning on the Christmas tree lights, Tessa stands back to admire the full effect. Not that she hadn’t looked at it before – on the night she and Scott had stood here and decorated it - but there’s something different about it now. She’d looked at it, yes, but she hadn’t really _seen_ it.

It’s surprisingly easy, she thinks, to fall back into the rhythm of the familiar. Once the carols were on and the tree was lit, there was no hesitation in humming along to _Oh Christmas Tree_. The barrier now lifted, Tessa suddenly felt free.

She’s not naïve enough to believe that all that hurt has just fallen away, she knows she’s probably got a lot more talking to do before it gets to that point, but she’s not afraid of it anymore and _that_ , more than anything, makes her feel like she’s going to be okay.

 

Her stomach gives a low rumble – that chicken Caesar was a long time ago. She decides to unpack the groceries – finding it highly suspicious that her mother just _happened_ to have stopped by the store earlier that day, and although there’s nothing there that Tessa could throw in the microwave, she thinks she could probably make do with cereal. Sliding open the door to the pantry, she starts stocking the shelves.

“What on earth?” she says, spying something just out of her reach.

Grabbing the kitchen stool, she sticks it in front of the open door and climbs up, reaching high into the back.

It’s a box of cookies.

Tessa turns it over in her hand, thinking she’d much rather dive into _that_ right now than a bowl of oatmeal.

“Yikes!” she says.

It’s a really _old_ box of cookies.

Maybe not, then.

She tosses the box on the counter and grabs the almond milk - probably better she eats something fairly substantial anyway.

There are lights coming up the drive and she sets down the oats and the spoon, thinking her mother and Jordan must have changed their minds about street hockey. She’s half-way out the front door ready to ask if they’d bought something deep-fried and baked, before she realises that _she_ has the car. And she’s got one foot off the mat before she registers that Scott’s bounding up toward her.

 

“Scott, she says.

He stops in front of her and she carries on staring at him, resisting the urge to poke him in the chest and work out if he’s real. She figures he is, because his hair is sticking up in all directions and usually when she’s dreamt about him, he’s had a pretty good flow going on.

“I’m sorry are you…”

She’s about to ask if he was dropping off her mom and Jo but of course he isn’t – otherwise they’d be standing here with him.

_Why is he looking at me like that?_

“Scott, what are you… what are you doing here?” she says.

He takes the extra two steps toward her, tilting her face up between his palms.

“This,” he replies, smashing his lips down on hers.

She’s already responding to the kiss, tugging at his shirt collar and pulling herself towards him while he moves them back towards the door, their lips moving against each other with urgency, tongues already dipping out to deepen it.

The threshold brings reason and she pushes back at him, shaking her head and backing up, trying to catch her breath, holding her hands to her mouth and trying to work out what the hell had just happened.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “Tess, I’m so sorry.”

She doesn’t know what to say.

Sorry for what? For kissing her?

He takes one step towards her as she takes one step back, putting a palm in the air.

“Tess,” he says.

Her lip’s wobbling dangerously now and she’s not sure how many more “Tesses” she can take.

“Why are you here?” she says, again.

“Because I’m an idiot,” he says. “Because I’m a big fucking idiot.

“What?” she says.

“You kept one of the doves,” he says, walking toward her and taking her hands in his. “You kept the one that was me.”

“Yes,” she says, wondering whose hands were shaking more.

“Tess, I’m so sorry,” he says, bringing her hands to his lips. “I’m so sorry… I’m a fool.”

She shakes her head, breaking a hand free to stroke his cheek, unable to stop the tear from falling down her own.

“I’m so in love with you,” he says. “Please forgive me.”

Tessa nods, trying to blink her way through the emotions running inside of her. She takes a step back, keeping one hand in his, bringing the other to her mouth, trying to calm her breathing.

“Can you forgive _me_?” she says, her voice a quiet sob, her shoulder beginning to shake.

He pulls her into him, tucking her head beneath his chin and holding her tight against his chest.

“Shh,” he says. “I got you.”

She can feel him running his fingers through her hair, and she closes her eyes against the way he kisses the top of her head and rocks her in his arms, waiting for her.

“I think I’ve ruined your shirt,” she whispers.

He pulls back a little, cupping her chin in his hand.

“You ruin all the shirts you want, T,” he says. “I can take it.”

She smiles through her tears.

“We have a lot to work out,” she says.

“We do,” he replies. “But… I figure we’ve got time.”

She nods.

“Besides,” he says, brightly. “If we’re going to be working together from now on, we’ll need to fill those car rides up with something,” he adds.

“I’m sorry… _what_?” she says, pulling back to look at him.

“Car rides,” Scott says, stepping out of the hold and staring down at her with amusement. “Between here and _Toronto_ – or… y’know, Toronto and _here_ … whatever works.”

“Go back to the part about _working_ together, Moir,” she says, putting her hands on her hips. “You seem to have skipped several _crucial_ bits of dialogue there.”

“Have I?” he says, with a grin.

“Yes,” she replies. “Spill it.”

“Hm, well, y’know, I can’t really talk about these things until contracts are signed and salaries are negotiated so I -”

“If you want to kiss me ever again,” she says, poking him in the chest, “then you better start talking.”

“Catherine offered me a job doing morning television with you and asked me to think about it,” he says, quickly, before pressing his lips against hers.

“Wait, what?” she says, her voice muffled against his lips.

He grins.

“What do you think, Virtch?” he says.

“I… think you’re trying to drive me crazy,” she says, her lips fighting against her smile.

“You better get used to it,” he says. “Seeing as I’m planning to drive you crazy for the rest of your life.”

She laughs, reaching up on her toes to place a kiss on the bridge of his nose.

“I think I can handle that,” she says.

“And… just so we’re clear,” he says. “Eighty years from now, when we’re telling the grandkids about this -”

“ _Grandkids_?” she says.

“Oh yeah,” he replies. “Let’s just get one thing straight, eh?”

“And what’s that?”

“That it was _you_ who hit _me_ with _your_ car,” he replies.

“Oh no!” she says. “Oh no, no, no, no, no.”

“Oh yes,” he says, ducking out from her grip and heading towards the kitchen. “You got anything to eat? I’m starving.”

“Uh, no,” she says, going after him. “I’m _not_ giving you my food after that!”

She pushes through the swing door, finding him over by the counter, ripping through the box of cookies, about to take a bite.

“Moir,” she says, hurrying towards him. “Those cookies expired in _2014_.”

He grins, wrapping one arm around her waist and pulling her close.

“So did we,” he says, his mouth lowering toward hers. “And we’re still good.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who has supported this story.  
> It was such a strange feeling trying to put myself out there again - so much so that I felt the need to create a new account! - and I had loads of doubt that I could even do it at all.  
> That support and encouragement has meant a lot to me.  
> I hope you have enjoyed Finding Christmas.  
> As always, comments are ♥


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